in the third week of the relationship
she was tripping on organic acid
would stop to pick up a rained-out leaf
would give it tenderly into his hand
full of dead things before they reached the car

when they drove she sat with mouth open
as though photographed on the impact of a stomach punch
her right fist gripping the skin of his left leg

hooking the steering-wheel closer to his heart
he feared her, and slapped out sideways into her face
she entered the cut with her tongue
gurgling gratitude for the strange taste

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