Jeremiah shoots up, shoots me a glance.
I stare at the swirls of hair on his chest a couch too far away, like contours for thirsty navigation.
"Well?"
I undress.
Everyone knows that when weirdos shoot up they don't fuck good.
But this clumsy intamcy, his hazy radiance.

Jeremiah nestles his skin in mine, naked bodies like stacked chairs.
He simply sinks, says softly,
"Are you okay?"
Is anyone?