after a one-night stand with Myself i ask Myself to stay the night

i know she wants me

by her side in sleep. i do not really          ask          her to stay,

only imply she is invited. i speak

our language. now i understand why no one wants me

to hickey them over the collar & on the wrist, all these visible

marks of myself. Myself

touches me as if she is an endangered species of jungle cat

that craves everyone it sees. we kneel & braid each other’s

hair from the front, reach over shoulder, pull from the nape.

though we reflect one another

i am jealous of Myself, the perfect way she uses her fingers.

Myself can finish me

so much faster than i can; she sees in me

a target. i do not envy that all her kisses

are anxious with farewell. not everyone understands

how to care for endangered predators. even knowing how

much she needs,

i want Myself to post a photo of us together, though we only

just met –

hours earlier at a bus station. in the blue of a rain-smeared

window

she appeared. i wish Myself would forgive me,

without my having to ask, for sleeping with yet another friend

who has broken the heart

of someone i love. i do it all the time. we love to fuck

heartbreakers

because it makes us feel intact. we can look each other

in the heartbreaking smile & not diminish. yet i know

that after Myself leaves, i will fall asleep on only half the

mattress. she will decide to leave –

               but first we go to bed again

to prove that we are irresistible. both of us are willing

to wear the 8-inch purple cock

to make it easier, but really

we would each rather be the princess of lollipops, purple

tongues & purple

thumbs & purple knees. we both hate self-

pleasure, because what, do we not care

about the nuclear holocaust & the famine in that other country?

but we both love to watch it happen so why the fuck

do we get off. from the back i see Myself as if

in a hairdresser’s mirror, same dainty

broad body. the calves strain under oceanic tattoos & the waist

is perhaps the parabola of time. we breathe                      in

spaces between:

I             I             I                          therefore?          after,

we twine each other like a lemon grove, as if

to remain. but

Myself chooses cab fare

from the dresser & kisses me

on my hip-soft cheek.

when my lower lip quivers it means my mouth needs filling.

we’ve been like this since forever.

she puts her thumbs over my eyelids

& swipes the tears away. even she does not stay

the night. until the taxi leaves view i hug

the doorframe in a borrowed shirt & hope

she’s going home to no one.