We are unnerved by pleasure; it frightens
us when it comes. It comes. I call. I’m out
side your door. I come with waif’s weed, urchin’s
greed. I hunger the way that the devout
hunger for a balm to their holy mess.
Call us a holy fuck. Blunts shared between
two: alms, bene-faction. To kiss. To bless.
To claim. I’ve driven far. I want obscene
things. I want to ruin you. Now re-frame;
I meet you at the door, children on their
way to school. We smile. We are familiars.
Familiar is good. It’s still the same blessed flame,
chaotic nerves, fire. I will take either:
as fuck-friends or as curious strangers.