experiment 216: pipeline

funneltunnel, face to face
your skin clearly 24 years old

& i love yr hair, o--
fitting between cruelties
of our times & cohort effects
i forget my tumescence is mine,
like worrying about it even happening
this hall of slabs
cantor warning, imam floating
proxemic.

are we divided?
you scatter as i slide
in shapeless sex.
digital smile in pixels
i touch,
buffer & roughen, blink alcohol down
& you’re smoother than before;
my ingrown hairs, bumpy thighs,

scratch a mosquito bite.
Blood center pooling
in coconut oil,
a hair springs out.