A Ballad to Ballard

The way you say hey

ties a knot in my stomach.

When you slide your sunglasses down your nose

and look my way

with those napalm eyes,

I could explode: heart & flesh & all.

I sit strapped in my seat, craving

that moment of impact.

My jaw hangs dead like a body in the closet

when you reveal

nothing

but black lace.

Your eyes fire pistols,

blasting bullets through my back.

You strangle my legs with yours,

and our lips crash together like a convertible into a hatchback.

My seat melts into a bed;

the molten vinyl and mangled metal surrounds

us like a crown.

As your eyelids unfasten my seat belt,

you peer into me

and I realize,

I just might die

before I can fuck you.