Eyes bloodshot from the blunt
you smoked before I arrived

We discuss Paul Celan
& I learn that you’re a classicist

You say your name starts with A
but your Grindr icon says S

Your belt comes off,
strikes my back

Grimace, & my mouth holds the weapon—-
you rub lotion where you struck me

The nightstand now littered
with a newly opened condom wrapper

You slip inside me (the magic of lube)—-
all my former lovers haunt me

I watch them make love to the people
they left me for, care for them,

Until I am nothing
SLUT with the smell of poppers

Your agape mouth—-RUSH—-you kiss me,
fuck me, hand hard to my face, saliva spit from your mouth

This is how I’m loved most intimately
by being made just a hole

You finish your glass of straight whiskey
before walking me to the door

[I have only had casual sex in this lifetime]
just before shutting it, ushering me out, you ask:

Do you believe in God?