Little Beast

An all-night barbeque. A dance on the courthouse lawn.
               The radio aches a little tune that tells the story of what the night
is thinking. It's thinking of love.
                                                             It's thinking of stabbing us to death
and leaving our bodies in a dumpster.
      That's a nice touch, stains in the night, whiskey and kisses for everyone.


Tonight, by the freeway, a man eating fruit pie with a buckknife
           carves the likeness of his lover's face into the motel wall. I like him
and I want to be like him, my hands no longer an afterthought.