drive by lover

the soft gasp of your surrender is deafening

in the fast lane i steal your breath

because i need fuel to rev up my idle heart

my tongue aches to dance inside your womb

your skin throws unbearable light onto all four walls of this room

(and isn’t it so much warmer here than in Connecticut?)

be my drive by lover

and i will make your mattress my temple

we can tie it down to the roof of my truck

and drive out to a place where the desert meets the ocean

and there, while and even though

you seduce Darkness itself

i will worship you

a 3 a.m. poem for … her

we were so much a part of the winter skyline

made perfectly symmetrical by broken shadows

Tuesdays were always my favorite because of you

your movements:  synonymous with water

and how swiftly we became the upside of tragedy

there is an empty chair at the Bouldin Creek Café

that is just as lonely now as I am

you made the tireless routine of the city bus

seem worth it

and as I step off, onto 7th street

crushed cigarette butts on the sidewalk

remind me that we were only human

occasionally, these metaphors exhaust me

and I just want to speak simply,

call you at 3 a.m.

and tell you

i miss you

Deeply interested in literature from a young age, Lee Lincecum’s poetry was first published at 15. After a 6 year hiatus from writing, he is now a regular participant in the open mic scene. His work has appeared in Language is A Virus and The Poets Haven. He is 29-years old and lives in Austin, Texas.