Fucked, forever

The beautiful boys and girls used to run

ragged through the East Village, puking

on sidewalks and fucking themselves stupid

with the joy they borrowed from each other.

We used to meet their cousins – tight

and smooth, trusting adolescents

from the Midwest. They let their hands

rub up our thighs, to our soft or swollen spots.

Nobody’s cousin is fucking anyone tonight.

There was a time we said: love.

Then, we said: appreciate.

I discovered a lady’s tells, and she sent me away.

I could steal her money and cut out her tongue,

but she would still play with my fingers –

an aimless, silent monologue through a mouthful

of blood. This is how we knew each other.

This is when we drank and fucked, forever

looking for a path. She showed me her light

and it turned out to be a train and a tunnel

and we don’t know what we want anymore.

We do know what we need.

I need a bed that won’t quit and a meter

that won’t expire, something I can keep

time to when the light goes out.

And all she needs is the hard cock

of her handsome man.