353 Washington Ave

I remember every time I walked by this house my heart pounded.

My vagina pulsed  

And my palms provided swimming pools for the bacteria on my hands 
That house 
Was cold, drafty and abandoned 
It smelled of leftover family memories & drunken young adults. 
I was proud to be one of the drunken adults 
There I could whine my waist 
Be an improper lady 
Lay in bed
Drool and have loud fairy tale sex 
There was those track lights that dawned the mirror where I changed panties out of my small brown backpack 
That mirror held my reflection as my body was pummeled 
I developed my sex face there 
Those sheets 
Must still have rice crumbs from old Chinese food and juices from my aroused body 
My black jeans thicken with dog fur 
The wet sounds of shower sex still fill my ears 
I didn't watch much tv there 
I didn't read much books there 
I grew not one bit 
But my body melted. 
My body was exploited all over that place 
Riding the G train at dusky hours 
Transferring, derailing, deporting for that house 
I used to long for it all 
Inhale every part 
But my body became too tight for fondling 
My mind expanded too widely 
And my transportation limits became narrow enough that I'd go anywhere for love but lust is just too far away. 

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