We do blow in the bathroom stall
like living in film the light stains
skin yellow and blurs the rapid
swings our arms make in the dark.
When the night began to dim
we pushed the beds together,
two queen sized beds. We crawled
in like a family, under covers
pawing blankets, passed
out the lights out the day out but you two
pawed each other. It's a slow blow
when she tells me in the morning, and if
I didn’t hear I don’t care, or should not
but feel lumpy, limp and i’ll regulate
feeling like an a-dult, like the adults
we play pretend we are: getting hazy
in the afternoon light and happy
hour caps every day and starts
every nightcaps every day. If
I care it’s a specter
of specters and I’m sniffled sick of snorting
white that leaches sense from sinus,
dripping spectacle down throat,
bleaching lumpiness. I limp.
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