Assessment

My fingers trace the newly
crafted early 20^th century
looking chair.  Each plunge
into a crevice; the dirt, the grime,

the sweat of detox and fresh
high, the film of receiving and
providing even conjuring
every act of sex known to man

minus the internet, minus
forethought.  I tell him my
frequency (as seen in tides),
intensity (as seen with the moon),

and duration (as seen before sight
and after its gone).  I tell him
of drugs used from age 12 til
my family potentially mourns me.

We exchange war stories
because we are legion and home-
bound.  Scars neatly underskin.
We are ok. Strong sediment.

Spring Break '98

I feel vulnerable:

Like getting naked for the first time on tour

greasy corners you didn’t know yourself

a paltry thing all shower worthy while

you masturbate in the stranger’s bathtub

thinking of how to impress some broad

with cut-off tank top and shorts, beard

girth and short hair.  Thinking of home,