MJC (1/27/92 / Edina, MN)

Cannot Wash My Shirt

I can still feel your palm on my waist
Your hands on my stomach
Your body melded against my back
Your fingers between mine.
I can still touch the web of your thumb with my thumb
Your bristled cheek grazing against my smooth
Your powerful arms as my steady hold
Your ear brushing past my murmuring lips.
I can still see your shy smile in the pitch dark
Your slight head bang to pulsating music
Your stance completely unmoved by the melody’s vibrato
Your eyes piercing mine as the lights seize around us.
I can still smell the booze and drugs
Your sweat mixing with mine so sweetly
Your heat pressed strongly against me
Your breath dancing across my neck.
I can still taste the stale atmosphere
Your aura peppering the air with such unique qualities
Your scent mixed with all these
Your essence with mine sensual and unexperienced.

And this is why I cannot
Cannot
Wash my shirt.

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