danger

You are making me smile
with your burts bees kisses
& champagne aftertaste
i do you up some lines of xanax, cut with a food stamps card
laid out on the dirtiest of porn dvds
i pack up a bowl, keeping the theme up
(or down)
"that old married couple"
relaxation is a luxury
& i'm luxuriating in your tiny frame
& the way your skin smells
closing my eyes i am thinking of the eleven new bars of irish spring in the bathroom cabinet
that you NEED there at all times
your ocd fills me up like shots of jager
warm and safe and at home
with my homo
dangerously close to middle aged, we hold hands
& make every night a honeymoon.