A Ballad to Ballard
The way you say hey
ties a knot in my stomach.
When you slide your sunglasses down your nose
and look my way
with those napalm eyes,
I could explode: heart & flesh & all.
I sit strapped in my seat, craving
that moment of impact.
My jaw hangs dead like a body in the closet
when you reveal
nothing
but black lace.
Your eyes fire pistols,
blasting bullets through my back.
You strangle my legs with yours,
and our lips crash together like a convertible into a hatchback.
My seat melts into a bed;
the molten vinyl and mangled metal surrounds
us like a crown.
As your eyelids unfasten my seat belt,
you peer into me
and I realize,
I just might die
before I can fuck you.
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