yeah let's get fucked up

and go for a drive

we're so young

and only a little corrupted

how many nights have i

avoided drunk drivers by chance

yeah let's get fucked up tonight

and drive your car up the road

and all those pretty songs

with all those pretty words

and all their pretty meanings

that got thrown into me

are now rotting in me

because i am a landfill

and i am compost

piled hot and wet on the ground

something

you fall asleep on your floor

and i am lying on the couch where every major

sexual experience of my life has taken place

and i wonder if thats what you think of when

we go to the basement to watch television shows

not that everything we are has to be sexual

because right now i dont want you i just want to talk

about every little problem in our lives

and make ironic racist jokes and talk about Cunt

and laugh about your family and all the customers we deal with

and all the songs we listen to and why we love them

and i'll get jealous of how much you love yoni

and feel a little like you've stolen something precious to me

but i won't say anything because who else could i talk to

so i would just smile and laugh and feel self conscious about my eyes

but you are asleep on the floor

so i grab my keys and phone and leave

your cat is at the door

i wonder if you think anything different of me because she likes me

i really hope so but maybe thats artificial

so i head home

the roads are wet and gleaming

and minneapolis is drowned in fog

and when i get home all i can do is text sydney

and play around with the words of how terrified with her i am

and my other friends want to go to uptown

and sydney is the only one i could make a joke with about that

that really disguises how upset i can be with everyone

and whitney is the only one i can tell about that

and rich is the only one i can tell about that

and he is with cassie for every weekend now

and i work all week

i wish my grandfather were here

i finish my poems on every dirt stained

cracked wall spreading out in the

city in all directions

with thick white tongued brushes

or slender splintering chalk

fingernails dug deep into crumbling complexions

lit up by street lamps or passing drunk drivers

hummed by the drone of traffic

and sung by every passing pedestrian

a choir in round pounding

loud sound in the town

a choir in round pounding

loud sound in the town

how to handle anxiety during minnesota winters

on the salt stained highway

hard crusted snow slips off the backs of semis

a violent splash and spin

little crystals splatter in the wind

let it bring a little smile to your cracked lips

see every driver rest heavy on the brakes

cautious for the ice

cautious for the light

is fading faster than a week ago

and fading faster than a century ago

turn up the radio

let the noise carry you home

white rhythms on the road hypnotize

your fingers lose their warmth on the wheel now

no longer finding her thigh

or the firm muscle on the back of her neck

miss your exit

drive to somewhere foreign in the dark

and nervously flick on your lights

be blinded by the semis around you

and the fog that clings to the inside of your windshield

a memory's warm vapor haunts your backseat

until you can't even see anymore

turn around when you find an entrance

the gas is waning

watch your headlights lose their power as you enter the city again

drowned out by the powerful streetlamps

that glow heavy and large in your dirty windshield

dried salt kicked up from the highways rivulets

pull on to the one way frontage road that never gets plowed

feel the tires slide into grooves left by larger vehicles

lose control on the ice on the turn

into a quiet apartment

where you go to sleep alone

and the trains ramble by every hour

sending vibrations into your dreams

of course not with fingers so dumb

of course not with a tongue so dumb

could i ever make you come

and i know it is probably

what will keep us apart

failure

the last two times that we've had sex i have failed

when you pressed my slender wrists down

back against your cool metal head board

and slide so meaningfully onto me

and in that moment i felt everything sexual and meaningful we were

and i was overcome

and i came too soon and was

limp

and then you were on the phone with your ex

and i was

limp

and now we find each other with candles around us

and wine and vodka and tequila

i hope you weren't bracing yourself for the inevitable

was it a protective thing?

did i push you into drinking more and more?

i know i kissed you first

and i know i looked at you with a sexual hunger first

why can't i see anything less? or is it more?

and then we're in your bed

you're asking me such sobering things

"what happens in the morning"

"what about him?"

and i honestly don't remember what i answer

but i make it sound good

and i give you head

and i dont make you come

and i finger you and rub your clit

and i dont make you come

and i slide inside of you

and i dont make you come

and you make me come

and i am limp

and i fall asleep in your bed

as you vomit uncontrollably in your mother's room

and i wake up alone

limp