Unemployment

August drinks
her heat from my eyes:
we are in love.

Out of the sunrise, we pluck
a moment and spread it
on our naked skin. Before it evaporates,
the phone rings:
it’s Monday morning.

I’m unemployed
so I don’t check the caller id,
and just let it ring.
Nothing distracts me from my lover.

Her eyes are large
and black when she looks
upon my pleasure. Her moist breath
cradles my skin in a sensuous smile.
I am aroused. She holds me
against her warm summer flesh.
We embrace

urgently, like time
and decay; we share
all unspoken fetishes.

That afternoon, I’m on the street,
locking my bicycle to a steel sign post.
Passers by can smell her love on my skin.
Their faces wrinkle up, disgusted.