HUNG OUT TO DRY

Hung out to dry, the hook barely breaks the skin.

Welcome the feeling.

My friend Lester says “I lack a threshold.”

I say, “ What the fuck is a threshold?”

I like words.

I don’t like Lester.

He hangs around my places and acts like he knows me.

It’s a trick I play in the early phase 

Pretending hail fellow well met.

The exercise is to get them to shut the fuck up

No dreaded niceties.

What my life is is mine,

And it’s good to have it my way.

Get cozy wrap your legs around me

I can crush you like a cobra.

 Me knowing it assures your safety.

Pin pricks meet along the crack of my psyche,

Nothing seeps out, nothing gets in .

Teach me something and you can stay awhile.

It’s not your body that opens my bridge.

It raises when the boats come in.

Call on the sunset to pick you up, 

take you where fear wakes you.

My belly welcomes feeling.

I want to punch your ticket,

Want to perforate the emptiness.

Wants to see you leave.

“Should I stay, should I go ?”

You harangue for an answer.

Say, “ I hold you back.”

I hold you slack 

To provide enough rope for you to hang.

My every word you repeat.

You don’t hear it, you don’t belong.

You will never be for me.

I haven’t the knack for fussin’

With your sex.

Your sad sack jaw makes my skin crawl,

Yet, when your shadow disappears out the door,

I’m abandoned til the next one shows

To console me.

What are you looking for?