he had green eyes,
so i wanted to sleep with him—
green eyes flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool—
you could drown in those eyes, i said.
the fact of his pulse,
the way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire
not to disturb the air around him.
everyone could see the way his muscles worked,
the way we look like animals,
his skin barely keeping him inside.
i wanted to take him home
and rough him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his
like a crash test car.
i wanted to be wanted and he was
very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving.
you could drown in those eyes, i said,
so it's summer, so it's suicide,
so we're helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.

richard siken
little beast