it is 2:05 in the morning
your foot on the brake is
preventing the car from drifting backwards
he is kissing you first
deliberately
then in a lazy or confused
way
you know he is trying to
communicate something important
and maybe he has wanted you
for a long time
but his tongue is moving
around your mouth
you begin to wonder if he
wants to kiss you
or if he wants to push his
way through you
you can see his bedroom
window from where you are standing
he is climbing over fences
and unlocking them from the inside
he says ‘go up those stairs
and turn right’
you swear that you would have
loved him a year ago
and every day since then
you are waiting at the top of
his stairs
you don’t know where to look
or what to touch
you are thinking about the
‘check engine’ light in your car
you are aware of certain
things while he has sex with you
helicopter noises through an
open window
a bottle of blue cough syrup
street signs indicating the
direction to an eastbound freeway
he is strong and gentle and
you wish he was only one of those things
he is tracing his fingers
across the edge of you
everything is quiet other
than a barely audible sound
in the space between his arm
and his shoulder
he says ‘why are you sighing
so much’
you say ‘that is just how I
breathe’
he says ‘you don’t want to be
here’