Now I am not saying he’s a bad man,
But there was sweat pouring out his eyes,
And he had pennies in the cracks between
His teeth and I wanted them all.
Maybe I have a bad attitude, but
This is a love poem of sorts.
The smell of meth seeping out the pores
Is probably what I’m remembering.
Or, his body, as the start of a song.
Maybe I have a bad memory,
But there was a ghost resting alongside
His body strumming his hair.
This is my first idea of intimacy:
His body strumming his hair.
Maybe I’m telling the story wrong.
His body smelled like pennies,
And the ghosts were everywhere
Waiting on his body to move.
Or, his body, as the start of a song
As he sifts through his come-down.
O, you painful man
And how you ready your weapons.
Now I am not saying he’s a bad man.
Anthony Aguero is a queer writer in Los Angeles, CA. His work has appeared, or will appear, in the Bangalore Review, 2River View, The Acentos Review, The Temz Review, Rhino Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, 14 Poems, and others.