Eye to eye,
you are thinking I am pandering to a vagina
already laid claim.
I am.
To put spurs in your sides.
The same way
I was made to watch
the lows and
ham hock slapping highs,
fingertips not mine, whipping cross haunches,
and spitting into my palm,
wishing I were you and you me.
Another year with the dragon.
Pardon my language,
all in good jest,
but her heart a flutter, for a second or two,
carries the wings on my back the same as you, the same
link animated again, dead too long,
to the ticker inside my chest.
