ur seeing moons in the face
of the moon. yeah every nite is
full w/ ur moon in the face
of another man. oh he the Dreamworks
logo. he hooked. he dipping
his toes into ur ribs. in the morning
ur blanket is a milky cloud. a rabbit
humping another rabbit. ur toes
scare u poking under the fabric.
these are not ur toes.
the barista pours u rosetta & tulips.
the bartender offers a tumbler w/ silt snowing @ the bottom.
the boyfriend’s boyfriend’s boyfriend smears his
breath onto the frozen windshield.
he paints a dick. then he paints
a smile on it. he paints a face. it is urs. it is smiling.
this is a lie.
u go on a date to an art museum.
the boi u are w/ likes abstract art. he stares @ a floor
to ceiling canvas of blurred burning ochre with a focus similar
to that of watching porn.
watching porn together as u know is pretty awful.
u want to be porn for him but he’s all about
the autumnal hell in the acrylic before him. “my uncle’s house
was lost in a wildfire in California last year,”
the boi says. in the painting u see a toilet
which is a kind of mouth,
ur thighs cramped with moonlight
& blood & lube. “there’s a first
time for everything,” u console.
this was the last nite u started seeing him.
listen to ur air conditioner in the car. misread
every emoji. put a record on @ a faster speed.
have a night terror. have another. catch a man’s
face in the screen of one of the library’s public computers.
stick a positive & positive
magnet together. buy a rock polisher & smooth out
the expressions of men in chert. the weasel
& the whale are close relatives. u know this.
u get sick in cars when ur the passenger. ur stomach
in ur mouth & ur mouth out
the window. u don’t read anymore cuz of this. speed
bumps fuck u up. tell him to slow down real slow. tell him
u have a hemorrhoid. tell him u can still have sex
later. tell him u are sorry. the wind snatches
ur apology or something but u don’t speak the rest
of the ride. the sky all cloud cover
& wrinkles. u want to see a lot
of things. clouds
in the shape of clouds. yeah.
eels crawling up chain link fence
like grapevine. yeah. that’s it.
u suck off bois long
enough & they all become lampreys. eventually
every boi is just a hallucination.
Liam Strong is a Pushcart Prize-nominated queer writer and has earned their BA in Writing from University of Wisconsin-Superior. You can find their essays and poetry in Impossible Archetype, Rathalla Review, Glass Mountain, Lunch Ticket, Chiron Review, Panoply, Prairie Margins, and The 3288 Review. They live in Traverse City, Michigan.