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b y   R e b e c c a   L u   K i e r n a n


50.  The Night Before Your Trip

 
We try 69 in the park.
Sprinklers are going off.
We think we see a U.F.O.
But we have to let it go.
 
I can't finish you when I start to come,
Rise up off your thrusting cock
Mouth won't close,
Slobber on your white thigh,
Try to dismount.
You hold me to multiples.
Stars dance
In the marigolds and wet grass.
No matter how I squirm to get away
Hold me, oh god, hold me to this.
 
Nothing terrestrial matters.
I have no questions about where you go,
No rule about calling
When you are out of town.
Even if you leave the planet,
No world exists
Where you wouldn't spend
Your last quarter, last breath
To hear me whimper in our squeaky bed
Of burnt pine and cherry silk,
"I'm kissing you now,
Wishing you were here."