PBR, Jim rocks, Fernet and cash.
tell me about your lady friend
if you have one
where does she go?
I like your coat and its buttons.
I’d do them up and revel in patterns
chasing the throat while
thinking about
your deep kissing lips
and your want to be romantic
after pressing my windpipe with
your ulna.
always a never-ending hip assault
and you don’t give me enough
for immediate orgasm
because you won’t let me in.
okay, one more Fernet and I’m gone.
the Wildlife channel has me chained
down to the barstool that you claimed:
rapey.
geometric light portholes form;
a door ajar, illuminating memories.
the strong tank in the men’s bathroom recalls
ten minutes of grunts when I bowed
and gripped to your thrusts from behind
three months ago after locked doors.
floor weights in your steps
under this cracked leather seat
sealed in matched duct tape.
steel leg distress in presence
how are we doing in time
close to the end
thirty seconds to finish
on path to pull neon cords.
goodnight, for now, tender -
my American spirit calls.
Leisha Nicole Stanek
Midwestern woman wandering, writing, welcoming the shared energy of humans to piece together our purpose. Collector of art, books, tattoos and men between sheets. If whiskey laced coffee were a permissible and actual form of daily hydration; tomorrow it would begin.
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