Today's poem is by Bojan Louis
She wasn't better off to driveweave
this paved city's grid, to lie together only,
and promise on waking to search our emptiness
for a way.
We never made it to our beds, but hurried
to her backseat, improvised the friction of our thighs,
and asked blow why whiskey, morning after,
I'm addicted to her, an inversionone open
neutral where current can't return through
the potential to yes, home together, pleasure and arc
off each other.
Copyright © 2018 Bojan Louis All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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