and under the roof - by Brynn Dizackhow does one sip like a dyke?
heavy glass wet with condensation & that's not all my ice cube stomach clinking / open mouth insert straw down throat scratch along the sides of the trachea all the way down into the jostled pit / pick up with fingers splayed around the sweaty rim or a firm grip heavy like the thick glass bottom & dripping forming the rings intertwining and locking together wet on the wooden table like our fingers often hook and meet in the darkness of my room
will it drop and shatter or does it matter because who's. watching. now. who's making sure you're in uniform backwards cap / falling into the gap men's shorts a thick salvation agains the baracade of summer humidity my knees hot against yours & we are so far on we're slicing bread when the butter's gone talking about canada all day & the way you sway with a cue is more than i have the power to put into words / & this is how we define our sexuality it's not about clothes or some kind of pre-determined eventuality or how we sip through our straws with pinkies raised or how i raise you up by altars in the church of my bedroom & do you like it hard & do you like it long & do you sing this specific song of glory / it's a different flag we've got raised in our rav-4's with six colors to rummage out of our drawers and budoiurs and closets & embrace more than just the red the white the blue and you
you are every shade and more you are cerualean, sapphire azure, you are guernica underwater you are picasso's blue period and you are a maxfield parrish sky / you are every different level of faded walmart sign & this may not sound romantic but neither does staring into undecidedly green eyes or the song of the tiny curve of your of where your thighbone meets your lips
come here / i have superglue i need to use and / i have nowhere else to be 07/24/2003 Posted on 07/24/2003 Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack
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