Naked under your oil-soaked overalls,
I lead you behind the filling station
to peel down, press you up against the wall’s
rough brick. You love ball bearings, oil, engine
grease, rough fucks while your husband drunkenly
snores next door. We use one of his condoms.
“A bit tight,” I admit as the frothy
acid begins to drip. When your cunt spasms
I shift to your “fatty batty” — molten
baby bhang and blue cheer. Your dreads hang down.
Your eyes closed. Your daughter will be home soon.
There’s an engine needing your attention.
Just now, though, you’re shaking, all pleasure-frown,
all unquenchable, all Saint Kitts monsoon.