LUST-LETTER TO ONE OF THE REGULARS
“look, we don’t know each other, but we don’t have to—”
just give me your careless, normal hunger—
i know we saw each other on that gay app
we won’t ever mention out loud irl—
i’ve served you the coffee breath that lives,
sometimes, in another man’s mouth—
you’ve seen me bloodshot and rude—
maybe you think it’s cute that i’m broke,
or maybe the tufts of hair i miss while
shaving my head turn you on, or you’ve
found me shallow and wounded on
the internet—you learned my name
and remembered it and milked it for
answers—none of this changes how
i feel about you, customer-i-have-a
crush-on. i still want to watch you
quiver under moonlight. i still want
to feed you your own soft wail until
we are feeling again. i still want
a man’s throat to hold my whole
religion, for him to struggle
my shirt off my lying chest
and still fuck me as a boy.
