You ever get that look? That look they smear on you that says, “get down with me, with that glossy afterglow? God, that kills me, that kills anyone regardless of whether they’re attractive. It’s those eyes, they pierce and scorch you through your lily-white skin, one hundred feet deep into your soul of merry green lands.
That’s what she did. She leaned against a fence and her body told me it was waiting for a kiss or two. Her heart on a sleeve, or better yet, her hand in the form of a pen-knife, she plugged me through and through. Instead of lying there and bleeding my flesh from my bones, I wanted more and more. Our words flowed like the wind roaring, moaning, howling, and blowing in a single, foggy breath.
Call out my name, love, but don’t be surprised. The soul I have waiting in that merry green land can afford to wait a little longer for my return. Tonight I dance the devil’s dance, spinning and dipping an advocate of justice.