don’t call me, I’m practicing for my threesome :: alina pleskova

thoughts all sing-songy like
No one knows where I am right now

I test a swelling sense of

stroll in the wrong direction with
my dress trailing mid-air

all the bars letting out
& some bodies so close I’m convinced
they pass right through me

every jolt of pleasure
attuned at once:

strung-up lights blurred & blinking
mouths holding silent O’s

chilled air by the gulpful,
a shock to the system

senses sharper
& a harvest-bright moon

the clock tower chimes an alarm
for those tensed & ready to walk
the high-wire between
ardor & fury

13th street starlets
fan their lashes curbside, holler
Get it, honey

which I take to mean
quit sleeping easy

& shimmy down a backstreet
to slip off last year’s
sweetness & reserve

The wanting itself
suddenly enough.