windows fogged -- rain outside
don't take my pants off yet. that jogger might come back.
he doesn't. 2 women stroll by instead,
collie in tow.
"hi," they call wicketly to you. your bra is bunched up
and hanging out of your collar.
eventually you stop caring and get down to it.
it goes in much easier than you're used ot. you're not
tense like you always are; you are surprised to feel your own
wetness. and when you feel it, you really do.
because this is not a performance. this is the backseat.
