Passage

Sticky

The moon is in eclipse:
It's a gooey caramel
with snowy frosting,
and the icing's
melting.

Around me swirls the thick,
sticky air,
and the tangling
and crushing affairs,
always changing.

Pulling at me
and twisting
and stretching
those parts of my chest
that ache and laugh,
elevate and devastate.

Kiss me again,
and again we kiss,
and suck,
and when we know enough
that we're stuck
in love,
kissing fades
to talk.

The syrupy night
binds me to talkers
and walkers
and sweaty sweaters.
Dripping, we ooze
through our bricked swamp
and pretend everything's OK,
or wickedly not
and stop
to chat
and scratch the cat.