Your figure settles around me
lizard eyes adjusting to the light
There’s lube by the pocketful
conjuring something impossible
like a ghost in the corner of the cubicle
singing Taylor Swift
—seems a little earnest to me (at the time)
So I squirrel those feelings away for later
as blood rushes into my cheeks
obscured and drenched in red light
a cacophony of pink liquid
across my lips
and some over leather
“Thank you”—I always find this weird
but I say it back
Featured photo courtesy of author via Centurian Sauna.
