Behind those double A's
I found
a twelve step program
down.
Step 1: Jim.
Step 2: Jack.
Step 3: Jerry.
I began to believe
Jesus was a man
in a baseball cap with his lips
on my ear lobe
as if he was trying
to whistle but has forgotten
how. Huffy, sugary
lingers on his voice
as he leads me down,
down, down the street.
His finger prints burn into my flesh.
Branded, I still notice
his purple touch
two years later
and smile
at my own reckless abandonment.
Lust is swollen thighs
loss of breath, tangled,
torn and tainted
then tame in a foggy moment
when all has been said.
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