(or how you would like to feed your selfishness)

Meet him again, skin on skin, perhaps your hand on his elbow or his arm
on your arm, and let the eyes do the talking: search for a phone number,

long conversation on a long distance call, maybe not that long, because
distance cuts the relationship as it stretches but this won’t take too long,

in a few days, you will invite him over for dinner, in a diner where everything
is raw: the meat and all its juices, your mouth waters at the sight and smell

of him chewing and drinking and reaching for your hand, and the indefinite end
of this moment where you grab his left chest, tears it open and you snatch

his bloody, beating heart.


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