Something for your Hands

I want to give you something for your hands:
all the jokes I made
at 17 when the world was young
and I was old
enough to know the difference
between lust and survival.

I want you to take it-
my cynicism-
and rub it against your palm
for the friction.

I want something for my hands:
your mouth and ears and the places they meet.
I want to hold them
like candles.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s