Poem for Trains (and Yona Wallach)

You come to me

In a dream

Or on a train;

On a train I

Want to fuck

Everybody I see:

The woman who walks the aisles

Checking tickets

I undress her with my mouth

As we move toward the last car

And we fuck in the bathroom

Over layers of urine and toilet paper that

Just can’t seem to get quite enough of one another

We fuck in my head

And in my mouth

And in my ears until each sense

Cums in unison, on a train

And on the fourth stop

You stop and clean up

And wipe your mouth

And wipe mine

And hold my hand

And I know that

It was the best thing

That’s ever happened to us

The best fuck we’ve ever had

Because we went slow

And then you curl your fingers into mine

And slide them through the place where my belt

Used to be

And smile

We smile widely

And thankfully

And before you walk out

You ask for my ticket