1.
run your eyes along the boy
as you’d pink salt rim a glass
soon as he says he will make
the drive tonight
two nights after they killed
that other boy who don’t
look much like your boy
except the
…you know…
skin then spoon-batter a soft
egg. yolk, sturdy kiss, butter him
into better thinking. and if boy
still don’t get it, touch
like potential dead
‘til there’s nothing to do
but love-make
2.
begin and end with these body machines
sensing the death towns over
like a knee does rain
