“we're both jealous,”

you say



'impossible!'

- said

as I lurch into yr

armpit with my nose &

try to describe how you smell -


'god, it's perfect - like salt

mixed with chimney smoke...

why can't I

have it? I just stink

like earwax;

not respectable for

a man, that...'




“wulllll,”

you begin,

[& here I know y're about to

hack on me]

“who said you were a man, let alone a respectable

one?”

'oh, you terrible bitch!'


you erupt in these blip blip blips of laughter;

as always,

appreciating yr dirty work.


at this I dig my frigid feet

into the backs of yr knees -

& for a second when my toes hit, the laughs bleed into

a long, purple shriek & then back,

& I wonder idly if the neighbors think

I'm beating up a schizophrenic.




thinking you can hear my thoughts,

for some reason, I crack wise:

'it wouldn't be the first time, nor the last, eh?'

“wait, what?”

'oh nevermind. I realized that,

of the two of us,

i'm evidently the schizophrenic.'

[blip blip blip]

“if you say so, babe-o...”


As you calm down a bit, you refocus on me & I can

see the crook of yr mouth

from the bend in yr armpit.


yr eyes get softer

in that way they usually do

when you finally take pity on me


& you say, settling yr head against

yr other hand,

“well how 'bout thissss...

who said you can't have

burnt-tree-or-whatever-smelling armpits?”


& as I open my mouth to re-state the

obvious, you grab the

back of my head


& grind my whole face into

yr hairy pit.


[blip blip blip]


'it's heaven;' I tell you in

drunk mumbles,


'all the

other boys will

be jealous.'

09/06/2012

Posted on 09/06/2012
Copyright © 2024 Ryan Narce