One.

He's too tragic for a backyard party
Citronella introduced to chapped bodies
Music pulsing like the complete
Discoloring of rectitude;
He sips vodka from the bottle
Stashes his eyes somewhere adverted

Two.

The swollen blue sky
Leans over his sloppy mystique
Bows gracelessly,
Acknowledging his pursed lips
Underneath an overpowering patio umbrella
He says my name
As if he just learned it yesterday;
Summer breeds a fantastic case of self-absorption-
A light breeze of a disease
Packing July hard into inseams

Three.

The highway stretches
Out like the line of his collar bone
He's just a hard mouth
A cigarette in the passenger seat
He tells me:
A warm body
is a warm body
is a warm body-
He muffles the words
with a glowering glance
in the right side mirror.

Four.

He has to know that he looks like an offering
With his chest an open blueprint
His features blurry and resigned
He's a collection of miscommunicating sheets,
Passive limbs with an anatomical need for pretense
I glance back from the door hinges,
Recognize that methodical mirror.