"She’s got a cocaine tint to her tongue
as she twists around
and asks me to dance.
My stomach is a storm on the sea of Galilee
and I down Jesus Christ
in a shotglass ship of rum.
I’ve tasted enough sweat on lips
in this poker town
to feel when they’re all in,
and when they just wanna fuck again
before the headache sets in.
She’s got a body like a battle-ax.
She’s got a body like a bass kick.
She’s got a body like Beethoven’s fifth when you’re high on acid.
And she carves her hips into mine
like she’s Michelangelo
and I’m something holy.
Outside we chainsmoke bummed cigarettes
and try not to fuck each other
in the parking lot.
Her house,
my house;
the stairs—
the chair—
or the welcome mat?
We come at each other
like we can’t be broken
and love is the
hangover of lust.
When we say “goodbye”
it sounds like “get out”
it looks like a drunk tattoo
all sloppy around the edges
but with the best intentions."
by Alex Thomas (Anatomy of a Hook-up)