Sunday 2/04/2007 12:16:00 AM

I turned into the skid. Letting go of the brakes. Just like they say you should. The threat still hovering. Loud like a helicopter. The end crowning. So red. Like a newborn squeezing from a mother's legs.

We have sex and that's all there is to have. Finishing the infection with a dirty band-aid. Ignoring the itch. Clumsy wings tripping over the bulk of the wind. Tumbling over each other in an avalanche of skin.

I'm not that broken. I'll never be.

Broken enough. For you to love me.

There are only the drinks we split. The skins we stole inside. When our own were too big.

Stranded atop the ferris wheel at a carnival of touch. Everything looking so small. So flat. From how high we were.

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