Should I take her
to the lake? I want
to touch her freckly-
toothy glint when she
expects a frog. No,
I don’t. I want
to struggle on behalf
of her ribs and my
clavicle. I want to
inform her that she
has the right to refuse
rancid food offered
by overconfident lovers.
No hike. No lake. Just
a driving finger that
speaks against her
sternum.
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