Killers on the Radio

Just when I think I'm done
writing to you
Human is playing
when I start the truck

I am suddenly back in bed with you
strangers intrigued
throwing toilet paper into the ceiling fan
your new gossamer skin
on the black wrought iron
gom jabbar at the edge of the bed where the
cat's claws cut and rend

teetering towards the edge of the world together
bandaging your clumsy blood stains
falling dancer
fucking in the tall trees
the dying firelight

you carry my handprint like an artist's signature
you carry that empty wine bottle like a caveman's club
driftwood smoke and the red sun in your hair
silhouette your naked lines
so sad to be this happy
in love for just a few days.

TA