bizarre

You wait for me on the corner
of 11th and Avenue B

What does the night have in store for us?

My eyes are heavy, lips wet
I hang on every word that
slides from the tip of your tongue
and into my mouth

Are you a good kisser
or am I just lonely again?

I feel untroubled, though not at ease
Vindicated, but on alert until further notice
The mischief with you is worth
the stickiness of Sunday morning’s lie

I’ll text you