FRIDAY NIGHT SELFIE
When I have cash for ice cream sandwiches at the gas station. When you say thank you. When I kiss you on the neck. When we drink a shot of whiskey. When it’s Friday night and fuck am I lonely. When we kiss harder. When your back scrapes the brick on the side of the only movie theater in town. When we get to your father’s house. When I think what would your father think. When I think of my own father. When I think if your father is anything like my father he’d. What. When I think. When we get to your father’s house. When I eat you out in the basement. When we lie down on the cool tile and don’t talk about sad things like how chickens are raised or the exes we’re still in love with. When you’re just the girl I’m looking for. When your teeth are smooth like the inside of seashells. When I pretend you’re fucking me on a crowded beach. When you say you like me. When you say you wouldn’t trade this moment for all the cocaine in Hollywood. When I hear your father’s rifles leaning up against the wall. When silence. When I run. I run.