The cigar smoke swells
tying the knot at my neck tighter.

 

I am clad scantily.
She is pulling me down.
Down.

 

I am at the wrong party.
Before I can vocalise my error,
shame snatches at my words.
That which is always insisting

“What if.”

 

I remain silent.
I let her pull me down.

 

I am nestled between her thighs,
coming to a sense of peace.

 

“Oh my sweetness,” she said,
“Have you heard of Below?”

I sigh.
She feathers her fingers through my hair.
“No, I don’t think so.”

 

“What about… Burroughs?”
I smile, I am caught
where, in fact, I want to be.

 

I shake my head, nose brushing against.
“No, definitely not.”
“Wow,” she hums. “That’s crazy. Unbelievable.”

 

She leads my chin in.
I smile, I am caught
where, in fact, I want to be.