Light stuck to your naked body like a fresh cut haystack after a rain.
You looked just like a desert sunrise and you tasted just like the gumbo
and you smelled just like the spray from the breakers at Patricks Point.
And when I pulled your thighs apart the sky opened and God himself
came thundering down wearing a pork pie hat with a press pass stuck in it,
taking a seat at the announcers desk of some celestial sky box,
surrounded on every side by bleachers full of rowdy drunken angels.
click green +Dont mind Me, He said into the microphone.
Carson Reed, from Speaking in Tongues, YS #45this and all art in issue by robert patierno