“Some desires reach beyond social spheres,” he said, all proud, as if his thievery and dishonesty had simply been a ploy to band us campers together—jocks, geeks, trash, dickheads—to take our minds off the scorching August heat.
13. She touched my ankle, so I touched her neck, and then the spaces above and below it. And then she touched the bony expanse between my breasts and I thought about saying stop but instead decided to go on a scavenger hunt for places to bite: the space of her belly before her groin, her knee, the scar on her back that I lick, she laughs like a broken clock, and we both say enough to love.
My Life Coach Terry gave me a personal challenge. “Get a pet,” he said. “Become a pack leader.”
You run away like the usual shadow of my southbound train. / Again: bird tracks in ice & I mistook them / for your tiny feet / —but I would know you, wouldn’t I, my / casualty / among all the world’s sighs.
yet here is
cave of your navel
Once you’re sawed in half. Once you’re turned into birds. Once you free yourself from the straitjacket through a key your assistant passed to you when she kissed you. Once you turn a cat into a lobster underwater.