We are ravenous after our
encounters. And so we
visit the pizza place that
makes 'em the way you like 'em, hot
and crunchy with extra spices and cheese.
Propriety demands we hide
conspicuous marks by impassioned
lips and teeth. So we dress
our best, covering our bodies
warm and wet only hours ago.
My hair still damp,
we both smell of sweet soap
You look scrubbed to a perfect pink
like an altar boy.
There is a lipstick smudge
on your left shirt sleeve.
There is a pink mark on
my nape. I feel the folds of fat on my
belly while I sit and imagine
the taste of melted cheese
on crust. I study your
hands now on the table,
properly clasped the way we pray
at the Mass.
---1992
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