dirty
how would you like it
the bartender
sighs the lord’s name in vain
understood the slurred wittiness
wobble onto stool
humped over
joining the rest of the line
sweet
the sound
system jests that one song
about a breakup
puke on the sofa next to your carpet
it’s yellow
swayed hips
shoulders give way
diluted In and Out closed
turn over
moist
to the Devil’s dance floor
where a pretty ugly Frenchie took your wrist
foot strikes a patch of ice
popped cherry on a yellow wheel stop
get up dizzy
scrape on forearm
the impassionate spring fever
wrapped around neck
constrains body against
erect
hands stroked rock hard back
she asks if she could have a stick
reached into baggies
pulled out a yellow
she takes half
you took half
got into the convertible
a silent triumph when you insert your key
twist
-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
Photo by Ludde Lorentz on Unsplash
©alektpoet
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