“Twenty minutes,” you gasp, dropping the phone.
“Beastly perversions,” as your dad calls this,
take time. This is just, “d’baw-chuh-ree,” thrown
in high gear. All that drenched, languid, “sk-hiss,”
rhythm we love gets cranked. Fury cums, it bursts,
leaving us sodden, like prayer. We all pray
in our way. I pray in you so these thirsts
and greeds might slow. No. Climax is doomsday
postponed. Once again that damned car pulls up
and I pull out. Once again we scamper
to get dressed. “¡Sodomite!” your dad christened
me. True, I swing both ways but I worship
with you. Love takes time. In prayer, however,
we cum like feral gods, fuck like legend.