Sunday, June 10, 2012

B.M.W.



The youngest of two 
and twice as gorgeous as her sister, 
she was the first time 
I ever had breakfast for dinner. 
Lets kick it and watch a movie; 
my favorite phrase of those days 
because it always meant: 
let's see what happens when we're alone tonight. 
An empty bottle of stolen wine 
put her mouth all over mine 
and our mouths carried on 
into southern constellations. 
"I can be your superman" 
played on repeat while we shuffled 
under a pointless Browns sheet 
on the basement love-seat. 
With the lights out, her body was a shadow 
on mine strobing to the silent scenes 
of Rat Race in the background. 
Every movement felt like a steampunk dream 
of intensity because we were reckless teens 
with one square to share 
after we made a messy story 
worth telling every one of our friends 
at school the next day. 

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