Your burgundy wool
sweater was like your burgundy mouth.
Lumpy-sweet lollipop cheeks
we were lit
lucky strike cigarettes
dopamine dopes, slugs on drugs
slowly burning down to butts.

Long hair, long days, long sighs
refusing to sign for our covenant with time
You were impossible.
Third generation mule, eyebrows after Botox.

We played cards
go fish, old maid
I was a fist full of meatloaf mushing
between some man’s fingers
beans smushed into the rug.

You were a sleazy salesman
sweet-seeming skeeze
snuck a banana peel beneath my feet
watched me slip, worked me like hammer on hot metal
flattened me.

A burgundy mouth spat red wine in my eyes.
I spit at burgundy tulips.