'We Dance' and 'Humidity', by Brian Choquet
We dance
We sing
I close my eyes
We dance
I can’t breathe
Sharp pain stabbing the thighs
hips, knees
We sway almost in sync
I force an intoxicated brain to bleed
My lungs force me to cough probably because
I started buying Camel cigarettes cash only
transactions so my mom doesn’t see
the $9 eighty-four cents + tax spent on my credit card statements
All from random gas stations sitting in between friends’ places/
clubbing locations/ (most importantly) dick appointments
and my secluded lake homestead
Not exactly a lake house, but I live across the street
from a row of trees and 2-story dwellings
that hide a body of water named after Hiawatha, a Native American leader
from the New York region whose legacy is merely
just a name we locals say to identify “our” place & townie heritage
with no knowledge of history besides when we jumped onto the screen
This is why everyone should have trust issues and a reason why I keep
on inhaling tobacco and going through the trouble of learning how to use one of those
damn Zippo lighters that seem to fire for .2 5 seconds before dissipating and leaving my
ciggie empty of smoke to gulp poetically
The appearance to look fashionably unhealthy isn’t why I dabble
(to display my addiction a lil more favorably)
in this fetishized vice I just like to get the overthinking
done with before I head out for the night and find myself
grinding with another tall random boy that I’m just using to fill the void of
another more specific tall random boy We aren’t in a relationship This isn’t cheating
He’s probably out in Bermuda sucking a smaller dick than mine of some woman’s husband
while they’re on vacation This is why I have trust issues
Overthinking vile uncertainties stemmed from semi-unwarranted
suspicions taught by a childhood of Lifetime TV
It’s not you
That’s vodka and nicotine speaking and dry-heaving
sweatily and pressed up against my restricting blue jeans I whisper
to myself maybe 1 more song
but it’s not a bop Our rhythm stopped
8 minutes is a long time anyways
to feel breathe coddle the tiny hairs on the back of my neck
and lanky hands reaching for my crotch
It can’t always be you
pressed tightly against my covered-up ass-crack
but would I even want it to be after everything you
maybe could’ve might of done to break my trust?
Humidity
You’ve only known me with a cough
and sniffles and snot that
blend with the sweat of
nightly car sex during
the hottest summer
we’ve had yet
Global warming is a bitch, isn’t it?
and I wish we had our
own stretch of road that
allows for a cracked
open window but
we can’t set free your
high-intensity moans
blasting like another
song out my car radio
when we’re only 40 feet away
from some charming brick home
that would be SO down
to call the cops on two horny homos
I’m drenched in our sweat plus
remnants of what’s left of your saliva
meant for my dick but you love
it and I’ll never say no
to any of your compliments and
it’s all good anyways
this is how your body goes through
a cleanse
of leftover toxins, perspiration
tip-toeing down sun-bitten skin
it can’t heal the hickeys
I imprinted carelessly across
your neck but that just takes
time and maybe a beige turtleneck
(it can’t heal the cough sniffles snot
he imprinted carelessly across
my respiratory but that, too, just takes
time and maybe a few Mucinex)
again,
IT’S FUCKING HOT BRO
and global warming still subsists
so maybe just a scarf and tank-top combo?
tbh, I really just don’t want to match
sorry, the turtleneck look is my go-to outfit
I always wear it underneath all my clothes
because I love to sweat
and I’m always in need of a wicked hot cleanse
but it’s just been hard to feel warmth when
global warming has been doing this
day after tomorrow shit to me
the cold blows frozen chunks and it’s
homophobic to make your gay kid grow
up too far north
just clasp my hands, please
wrap me up, you’re sultry to
the touch - has anyone
ever told you this before? –
&
I adore
our mixed humidity