Cracked Sestina

I always knew we weren't everything we were cracked

up to be, but in the early years we actually burned 

like blue ice in your narrow girly apartment bed

beneath the Toulouse-Lautrec. Remember that time

in the back of the station wagon? Seven people and you

and me in the wayback, and you telling me


let's do it right here, right now, and me

so ravenous that all my restraint cracked

and we fucked all the way home, you

coming like Chinese firecrackers, I burning

all my bridges around you like a moth all the time

in my office, always after your Latin class, our bed

in closets at parties, behind refrigerators when old bed

mates invited you to parties before you told me

who they were. I was doomed in pussy-whip time.

Nude under granny dresses in dark bars, you cracked

up friends with droll wit as you impaled me, burned

on my lap while flirting with friends who wanted you

to come home with them, sure, why not, and you

just wriggling with the pure evil joy of it, bed

and bar indistinguishable. That first year we burned

so many bridges there was nothing left for me

to say except marry me, marry me, and that cracked

you up so much you said sure, why not, what time

should we do it? time

for you


in bed

with me

as we burned

and burned


away with me

in you

in bed

and we were all cracked

up to be me and you

burned out of time

in bed, hopelessly cracked