You can't help who you love
But you can help who you kiss
You can touch like you want to touch
Soft, and in length,
Quick, hard, and jealous.
You can help where you whisper,
In parking lots dark enough
To sneak passed inhibitions
To let whispers wrinkle the air
Like the morning before sunrise,
Too new for daylight,
Too new for garage punk trash sound.
Whispers like freckles
Sexual like the first rain in the amazon,
Engulfing and holding
Like black silence
In a parking lot by a lake
Feeling freckles with my tongue
And the white glow of the moon,
Like the whisper you traced
On the back of my neck.