You will not be forgotten.
Very strange romance.
Dusty’s cellphone number had been written in script under the haiku, followed by xxxxoooo
* * * *
Awake now, Lewis texted me, asking me if I would shower with him. I agreed.
We stood under the warm water for forty minutes, wasting it.
On my knees, I blew him under the warm spray.
On his knees, he blew me under the warm spray.
Afterwards, dried off and dressed, he texted me, I love it when you plug the back of my throat with your dick.
I kissed him after reading the text.
Strange love.
* * * *
Sander showered alone, preferring it that way. Distant. Thinking. Lost in his Nowhereman’s land. Post-apocalyptic in thought.
I always thought I would find him in a motel room with his arms sliced open by a bloody razor. Self-inflicted wounds. A victim by his own hand. Dead.
He had many enemies, though. Over twenty. I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone murdered him. I couldn’t be surprised if that ever happened, honestly.