Forty days over lazy Sundays
I tried to forget your name.
Cops smoked me with a ticket for
dark window tint.
Tension builds through tunnel vision,
roaming about unfamiliar landscapes.
Your numb Midwestern skin fuels friction,
traveling highways through tunnels
and hills, popping my ears with a stick
of gum. This cup of cold coffee is barely
keeping me awake. I drool at the taste
through a memory of your sweaty body.
I pushed through an unlocked door and crawled
into your bed with forgiveness on my breath.
(© 2022 AC)