LAST THREE DAYS

FRIDAY Insatiable, my hands reach for your arms only in the dark and climb up the muscles in your shoulder, weathering your solid rock to my frigid touch. I’d love to be worldly but it always seems that there’s a hometown grocery store calling my wretched name And so gently, you wonder aloud why I dropped your hand when we walked to the fireworks show, why I wouldn’t kiss you under the eruption of…