Kiss me under the stars
& I will not care to know which are already dead
Kiss me under a bridge
& the graffiti will melt off the walls
Kiss me as if the world tasted clean
but roll me in filth
there’s some in my lips.
in New York City traffic
we’ll be shooting down country highway
bodies pushed close enough to split atoms.
|—||Jeremiah Walton, “Love Poem 12” (via literarymiscellany)|