sex and tattoos
cigarettes and ice cream
i
you grind slow
lean onto my arms
and shift your hips with mine
my eyelashes brush against your breast
close with each breath
and i blink aside
strands of your hair
your drops of sweat
as you stretch
and evoke
low moans
ii
i wake to the chatter of tattos
worming their way across my skin
my hairs waving in their wake
your loops knots feathers and scales
jumped ship while i slept
lulled
by their inken whispers
iii
you mark me with cigarette ash and laughter
and burn a four inch swath
along a half hidden vein
through the hair on my arm
the heat of the ember close
like fresh sunburn
and the smell of ammonia
iv
we sit on the window ledge
of the swedish furniture store chat
and eat
homemade ice cream
you try my green mint chocolate chip
i thought you had cappuccino something or other
and found it rather boring
until you said it was cookie dough
which explained
everything
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