I am alpha moon

I am alpha moon

sun slipping down between my thighs—

never mind your mother is listening.

I lose it in the bathtub,

choke down skunk bitter box wine

my inability to control

my animal intentions.

I envy one who can be so content

to commit to time honored tradition

                        and be faithful to one other self—

I will not name them

beyond the biblical Adam, who is a real man—

                        the two of us crying over our sad selves

pathetic in the parking lot

we both say thank you

a loose leaf of paper.

We laugh about it

on the hood of his car.

                        The edge of reason is ancient

on the white walls

of suburban getaway

one generation revels in the trailer park.

            Dead stars blink

                                    through the windows

                                                                        between our bodies

                                                                                                            post-millenial mud            dervish summer

            30 days home before I leave for the road.

We see each other a year later

he calls me Eve in the Dark Horse

he buys me a rum and coke and we joke about how lonely we are

            the humid dank of this bar.

I love this hour                        surpassing bond of manifest bodies

                                    become souls glowing on the overpass.

Our bones            beg            to free this container

                                                finite fleshy structure

                                                            architecture            of letters we don’t write.