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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