It alternates it changes it’s a goddamn carousel
but god I fucking love the dizzy.

You are not here but you are.
You are not mine but you are.
Indulge me in my delusions.
I won’t beg you.
Okay. Yes I will.

Right this second we’re riding the rides, all of them,
on the Santa Cruz boardwalk.
Can you smell the funnel cakes and the sea?
It’s as innocent as your hand in mine.
That’s what I want.
We’re walking, sharing, winning prizes.
I like Skee-Ball and beer as long as it isn’t light or cheap.
I like watching the sun orgasm into the Pacific.
I like to think God put the palm trees there to welcome me home.
You’re home, too, we’re both home, together.
This is how my mind plays and fucks itself to sleep.
The stars come on, Jupiter and Mars and Venus and Saturn come on,
and we stumble into the karaoke bar behind the roller coaster.
I serenade you with a song I cannot sing,
“Giving Him Something He Can Feel” by En Vogue
because I like giving you stuff
and I like to think
you can feel it.
Pretend like you can feel it.
It will be over soon and you can sleep.
I will not sleep.
I will sweat and ache
and wait for the sun
to fuck the sky pink.
This is a postcard
I have sent myself.

But it alternates, yes.
Because right now
which is steamier
than just then
we are hot
in the shared shower
kissing
slippery
sudsy
your fingers
in my cunt
my nails
in your back
our tongues
doing a delicious tango
god throb fuck
then god yes
I am melting
all over
your dick
and this is something
you can definitely feel
and I feel it
and we feel it
and you fill me
and I am filled
and there’s more
and I know
you are
right there
with me
for the hell banging ride.

I should not entertain.
I should go.
I should leave these thoughts
in the darkest corner
of my mind.
It is too late.
I’m afraid.
These thoughts have already
met the light.

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