Come on baby.

You are turning me-
and I have to distract-
keep me from-

'cause it's all too inappropriate.

While black speakers sing,
surround sound,
"Come on baby,
light my fire."

I am grin-
face in hands
numb with
wanting.

Wine lips for-
fingers twirl with-
a silver chain.
a collar bone.
a wave of-

I watch you
through bangs
and distraction.

Nails bit in-
lips pulled in-
hands in hair and
a fantasy:

this cafe basement
empty
and heat
on old leather.