the sound of a dog
on hot concrete
searching its balls
for leftover salts

inspires two new patrons
in a hotel to spend a night
soaking their genitals in
tubs that will not drain

such bird shit conversation
about weather, mistakes, and eyes
until the room is

a yearning of noise losing a game
a flowerpot about to die on the sidewalk
a tube of lipstick flashing a serious, pink edge

at last the tits begin out of the sweater
fingernails stab cock like bright fishing knives
a mind romanticizes stains on the peeling wall paper

flesh makes itself an instrument of interrogation when the
answer to whether there is a way out of a fracturing orgasm
forces her to open her legs like someone straddling a desk chair
then the ways of making people talk get their five minutes together

a mouth opens wide to make swallowing awe look easy
such a rippling wedding of white drives a convertible down her mouth
enough juicy ceremony to assign a good speaking part near the end

something like
we are going to crash
without the feeling anyone
is holding on at all before

the tires choke out on the old road
the car swoons through the rails
the wine stem legs drink to the sea