X

Heterotroph's First Hand-Job

by: Coop Lee

i celebrate my successes with pancake breakfast.
and i light off fireworks in my driveway; in my kitchen; in my car; beside the river;
in my living room :::grandma hopping from her seat with a jiggly-dance of surprise.
wisps of smoke linger in the air.

// party stanza //

outside i’m bad boy.
inside i’m sweetheart.
all the girls close enough know this.
they do with it what they will.

i slurp a slurpable at the frostee-glo
watching girls shift about
in their weekend electric.
i see everything play out before it even happens.
i have that gift; or curse;
because it sucks my life of all the risk.
and without risk we wither,
and we bleed out from the brains:::
right there, in front of everybody; my brain;
oozing and mixing with chili-cheese fries.

girl::
she puts herself to myself,
and our selves become more than they ever were;
more than they’ll ever think to be,
more than they’ll ever hold to the darkness alone.

her body; my body; our
smattering of colors.
i flip her onto her back :::dance fibers:::
so this; so me; pressing my hard into her soft:::
bearing down into her glossy:::
she laughs and weeps; like boom; then whispers in my ear.
culminato lingering;
she trembles in that long-end-tremble //pancake breakfast//

life foreseen:::
pay the rent:::
buy an eighth:::

meander half-stoned, half-asleep, wholly horny through the aisles of WinCo, staring at a soccer-mom’s yoga-pants’d-ass; so well contained; so much like canteloupe
telepathically bound to my chub.