Since when has speech become akin to sex?
All accountability falls out, lifeless, writhing
On the floor in a snake’s pattern.
I do not simply speak to you, I fuck you in the
Backseat of a car, under the glow of a TV,
When your parents aren’t home.
Yet to you, I merely speak.
This word invalidates all emotions, places a thin
Screen of fragile masculine plastic between us
And curtails all hope of connection.
How can you expect to have a genuine
Relationship if you hold others at arm’s length,
Summing up every action, every touch, every
Experience into a single word? Talking.
We “talk,” but you do not listen.