i'm bleeding from my shoulder blades, i'm leaving marks
like wings from the angel girl i forgot i used to be
underneath bare backs
spreading bodies thin into the cracks on my driveway
underneath you, underneath an open window
catch pieces of my moans in your hands, don't let them slip between your fingers to float between shredded curtains or
we'll both be in trouble.
please
hold my head together before i melt into crevices like white hot wax
cooling, molding into you, let me in.

you were looking anywhere but here,
for neighbors, for fingers on windowsills
for flying cars and brights facing stop signs.
the line of your jaw was at an angle i didn't quite like,
wasn't squared at me
your mind was at the stop sign.

maybe you were right
maybe they were tucked into their little pink beds- alone, the little angels they are
or maybe they were window shopping for the bad boys
and the gasping girl with her babydoll fingers posed on his cheeks.

but fingertips to your face
back in alignment now,
soft wooden brown eyes, too young for me (but only for one split second)
hung onto mine.
i'm getting my
sexual healing.
you know, i've always heard the best way to get over someone
is to get under someone else.
might as well let the passengers on their august midnight flight see it
too.
show it to the moon, it giggles over your golden head, lights up the line of your neck and the clay of my hip.
my feet face the heavens- rejection
i'm on earth, on an open cold driveway, and i could stay here forever.

my hand curls into your neck somewhere
between sigh's and oh's,
pulled you back to the
here and now and hushed the angel inside
about to fall out your mouth,
through your lips,
to splatter onto the cement beside my left cheek
like poison between the folds of a chocolate covered sin.
and i told you
with fluttering eyes and ragged breaths
to forget about then- leave it for tomorrow, for a world of clocks and datebooks and appointments.
be here, be now.
the stop sign is down the steet and the
orange lamp is up the road.
please, be here with me
so you left the sky and came down to / in me.

collapsed and the clocks ticked again
we're a mess of belt buckles and bloody imprints on the sidewalk.
we said our seperate goodbyes and i walked up the stairs- alone.
crawled between white sheets
alone.
the moon laughed, the stop sign forgot and the street lamp barely ever knew
but the driveway took you seriously and kept my
crooked angel wings in red smears just to remind you
every time you drive by
of the time we left angels for cement and stuck them there, ran them over
with grey tires and covered our tracks with a single cigarette.