Usually about an hour long
in the night,
my arms hang frail on the
wheel
and I'm fine with it.
It's always after a
little death has occured- going either
with a hush or with a scream- so I'm vulnerable
to your charm and the way you get the streetlights on
the highway to
play along.
This whole production is flattering, but I'm at the
point of telling people to stop touching me because
this constant eventuality feels too fantastic on the
skin.
Don't do the seduction thing.
I can't handle all your erratic emotions- the stars and their sinew, those big sighs and that damn expression.
You look like a classic film actress.
You cry like her too.