NOTHING TO LOOSE:
A gold stud in the ear. Hands clasped around something hot & fast.
A rescue remedy for a quick start too early. Sunk eyes.
Oh the the boys in the their turned-up jeans, conceal affection,
touch fleetingly, radiant faces, gingham parade to a corner table,
Fingers dance, skate across the faces of tiny machines purring in
the palms of hands. Vibrating symbiots, body-snatchers.
THE SILENCE WHEN YOU DIE:
But, in the meantime, lovers. No harm done this time.
Listening to The Necks