A Night

 

We sucked until the smoke ran out
in the red light
sober like a Sunday forgotten
this mirror me wearing folded stockings
boiling magic inside his crystal glass ball
frankly I'd rather his golden curls be on his head
but they're on the floor in roadkill agony
positioning me on his chest
like roadkill ecstasy
not like this
like this

once a southern sugar swallower
a traveller kept like his pet
ogled by the jewel thief
no no little pet
the ball is dangerous
and hot
come curl inside my lap.

TA