As I changed clothes
I could still feel the molten
brush of her tongue. Liz, don't ask why
I still shiver when she passes by.
We walked out of the school,
you put your arm around me
and I wanted to scream-- all right,
I stopped the car. Yeah, I said Need a ride--
Do you remember, we were maybe twelve,
talking about kissing, practicing on pillows, and then
her hot mouth was nothing like your still softness
breaking into laughter on my lips.
You know how scared I was. Max left his mark on you,
pushing life into your body, pressing his fingers
to the wet hole. The blood between you
was a covenant I didn't understand.
I didn't understand until she
left her mark on me.
She looked cool but
her mouth was hotter than metal,
and jagged. I skidded. A single gasp
was all my fight. I bucked,
I buckled. I went down.
I moaned, broke a sweat
under her lips-- the bitch got her tongue places
I didn't know I had, and the yellow sand
stuck like glass, ground into my skin.
I showered but I don't feel clean.
She kept one hand flat to my belly
like she was saving my life and it was like
my body wasn't mine, I was choking, scrabbling,
helpless-- if this is sex, well fuck it,
what the hell have they been trying to sell me,
all these years--
"You got a thing about making me
roll in the dust?" I said, after, and she
turned her head away, curtain of perfect hair
a perfect mask. Maybe she smiled.
I drove home. I changed clothes.
And all that's sure is, I'm marked now,
not outside, not silver but hot gold--
and shit, I'm cold.