I've had enough temporary acquisition

VI.
Snap. Focus. Step back, second glance. Tentative click- second guess, click. Erase. Zoom. New lens, wider angle. Zoom. Focus. Refocus. Realign. Pose. Motion. Shadows. Refocus. Snap. Snap. Snap. Setting sun. Focus. Erase. Delete all. Empty. Search. Zoom. Focus. Still.

October
My fingers are stuffed down the front of your jeans and all you can think to say is: "I don't remember where I left my keys." My teeth grip the edge of your shoulder. I can't remember where we began and you can't recall who you are. I fuck you and taste a stranger. Your keys are in my pocket, your fingers are gripping my ass, everyone is leaving and I want to disappear.

Exhume
We ran digital analysis over our late afternoon bodies. Numbers glinted in the awkward sunlight beaming through the blinds. I couldn't add and you laughed through the multiplication of our limbs and digits, identities and secrets. The night I met you, you scribbled a poem on my inner thigh and told me to follow you home. I chased your coattails up W 181st onto Fort Washington Ave. You were a blur of red and black, bursting through parked cars and errant cabs. I watch the movement of life now, gridlocking on the GW Bridge, and wonder when I'll find my way home.