We sat around in 40 ̊C
in our underwear
and fan
and a wet cloth
over the fan
and cubes of ice
in our mouths.
So many love songs
about keeping
each other warm, but
so few
about keeping
each other cool
in this fucking heat.
I’m sweating
thru my balls. It’s
a real prick.
You can take em
off.
I did /
was
naked now.
It was not
a pleasant
or a graceful sight.
But you didn’t laugh
and you didn’t even
look twice.
Sometime
after that
you got it all
off yrself.
3 hrs
we sat there
watching
Passion of
The Christ.
We didn’t
even fuck.
But let me
assure you—
this
this is
this is a love poem.