Fuck if I will...

Ski masks in hand
we can’t stop laughing
about the
Burger King
incident
and I think how much
I like you,
but fuck if I’m going to
fall for a man who …

the thought rips through
my eyes and dissipates
because we have that
rom-com moment;
doubled over giggling,
our eyes lock

and fuck if I’m going to …

swallow too hard and
put my hand on your chest,
you clamp your hand over mine
and hold on for four seconds
before our mouths
crash into each other

and my hands pull
at your shirt while
you fumble for the
button on my shorts
and the rough brick of
the alley wall scrapes my
bare thighs
and the
denim of your
jeans scrapes the front

there’s no preamble
because the whole
fucking caper was
foreplay

this entire adventure
stroked something
new in me

and fuck if …
I want you.

I want you.

and your hand is on my throat,
demanding eye contact
with you,
just you
my thighs quiver,
and my stomach drops
as as I guide you in,
and you eat my moans  
with an open mouth,
my legs around
your waist

as the sound of your
keys clank in
time with the
wet slap of bodies,
is a crescendoing chorus in
a dark alley behind a
fast food restaurant

and my shorts are inside out
lace panties rolled into
one of the legs;
both of our masks
lay forgotten
on the
grease-covered  
ground

and fuck if …
just fuck…
if I think

I think …


I’m going
to fall for a man
like

you.