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Replying to a comment on:
burns had caressed himâ
late at night laughing, lying
on couches in the fuzzy
yellow light of tequila
with tattooed boys
and slow long-haired women
(oh they get their hips down
to that earth when they walk)
yeahâafter some extreme-
ly illegal shots of testosterone,
some unexplained disappearances
into the light that glints
in the liquor;
after the woman
had slung off her hips pouting,
protesting the energy
in the roomâ
then the flame game could begin,
because you have to show something
to be in
and it's gotta be something
they can seeâ
so what's a little skin
when the heart drags daily
from steel talons? Sober
you would scorn this fisted ritual,
but tendons pop
hard under skin, flame brings
focus and pain
and all that fierceness is no enmity
it is awareness,
recognition.
...then later, down by the tv
in the basement, slumped
before some great cultural icon,
in the middle of a much
more mystical substance,
she lurks:
waistband of her blue-jeans
below the hipbone,
creating an un-
intentional vibration
in the drunk.
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