(no subject)

[lorelea]

after you let me hold your hand in
front of everyone
we slip like two smooth stones
into the leather of your car.
coiling down abandoned streets
i'm drunk inside your recklessness
and you cut the headlights
before we come
to a stop.
finally it is just you and
i follow your jaunty steps down
and around to the
old swing set.

here the street lamps make you
tough and glamorous.
you sit
i sit next to you

together we heave inside these metal boxes
saying little and
moving only inches --

without turning your head
your mouth glides
out
that you want to see
other people --

and in this instant i'm aware
that our breath is swelling from us white
as a scar.

yes, y-
es of course you do.

well
we are really
going nowhere
in these metal boxes
you exhale so easy,
drop your hold of the bars and
stretch your arms up,
mutating the
stream of shadows
behind us.

of course. i
understand,
i am saying.

and suddenly you are on your feet.
and pulling me.
by the hand.

sidling the grotesque cement creatures
with wilting shreds of dull paint
humped on thick springs
in the ground.

towards the giant metal-worked
mass of chain-link and
high-perched, curling slides all
hunched there in the dark
like a
grave yard of elephant bones.

i'm straight-backed
and eyes open
when you gloss over the length of me
under my clothes with
one hand,

but when you press in to kiss me the
statical shock
of impact
makes us both reel.