jax

When we first met
my balls bounced --

a giant game:
fish, red giants,
white dwarves and
the noxious stench
of wishywashywishing.

The poison spines
of puffed up stars
seemed deadly

where we stepped
under Luna's screaming
gaping maw barefoot.

It was the squid's ink
then the blood
from a misstep that landed
me the pigments

to paint you in the autumn tones
of cool sex.

Damn those sharp stars prickling
our snowy-white asses

and damn us for not looking
when we were the ones
playing the game.