deepundergroundpoetry.com
It's A Little After Twelve And I Hate Myself
You had your hands opening
things from the moment I
met you in the parking lot. A
pair of legs in teardrop-blue
jeans hung out the driver-side
door, and fuck me, it was glacial.
You would.
Your eyes looked like sex wasn't
the question, but the lip knuckled
under your tooth had us halfway
home. You mistook something else
for the clutch. Now it's a little
after twelve and I think I saw your
shirt in the stairwell. It was two
more hours before we would find out.
Now it's four days later. Your car broke
down on the main road and you've got
a friend coming to get you. You wait for
him in teardrop-blue jeans and a lip
knuckled under your tooth.
Well, fuck me, or don't.
Published 27th Feb 2015
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3rd Mar 2015 1:43am
Nice work, GB. You use your words economically but composed together with just the right style and touch to make provocative pictures. "teardrop-blue jeans and a lip knuckled under your tooth" is a terrific image.
