The very special time I had in the suburbs with you

I daydream about threatening to tell your wife that we fucked
Responding to your next invasion of my space with a retort spat syllable by syllable through a decade of withheld  contempt
On the days when I want to kill myself I think maybe you are the only man I ever actually wanted
I remember, you see? I cannot forget.

On the bridge over the river in Ohio, on the bridge over the creek in Maryland, on the bridge over the metro in DC, you never tried to hold my hand.

I dream about pulling your teeth out with pliers, sometimes all of them and sometimes just one, in the front, handing you gauze, wordlessly walking away.
I dream about my workplace being shot up by a man in a mask, having to smear my body with the blood of others and hold my breath while a man in a mask inspects my body for signs of life.