Portraits, Shirtless
You forget your name when the shutter snaps
like the windows
in the old house where the
fire breathers used to entertain us
in the most mundane of times.

You take off your shirt, pose
place your image on film, as though
to complete yourself in the world,
coexist with existence; faun on
yourself in caricature, singularly
pantomimed, though

just moments
before I found myself
with lips
locked onto the
back of your neck;

the next
sharp moment from me,
back turned toward
the hallway.

Do with yourself what you will,
take your soul
downtown and sell
it to the sexiest bidder,

break yourself
into a thousand pixels

see if I care.