Home in the summer. Her, good teeth. I glide on foam slippers,
As snow burrows into lids & open toe orifices.
Her, good teeth, so straight & knocking hard.
My sown flesh, soft & clammy damp.
If I look at her too long, I make room for little ugly:
Frostbitten and figured for fisticuffs: fight or flight.
I am his second, but neither her nor whore.
My clammy flesh upstages her, good teeth & lady,
While she, good meat, festers upstate.
He passes through turnstiles to swallow my spit in the dark,
In the negative Celsius chamber.
She never sees the thigh, the rope of neck, the hard joints
I unclothe, calcified, in the cold.
I dream of Pacific picnics.
Never dipped one toe into water, but sipped juice on a hilltop.
Little ugly, little girl,
Holding in little gut to prevent potbelly.
Never dipped one toe into water,
But watched seagulls hop and skip,
Like the flickering light I twist closed with fingertips.
Pacific seagulls hot-flashing,
Black and white.
Wet, we, and a little gray.