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Just how many of us can make monsters
scream with delight? I’ve met shadows in deep

blue shades, hungry for love between blurs
of vinyl record scratches. If you can sleep

you can dream. Dream of love in the ruins
of “what shouldn’t be.” Of “sin.” Of strong drink.

Let’s get drunk. I tell you, the aliens
of my life are exactly what you think,

creatures that want to be tied up firmly
have your upturned hand raised towards a krypton

green ass. Have fingers creep slowly due south
between horned knees. She is blushing, I see;

there is a plea in her eye and smile on
what I can only assume is her mouth.