Lowball by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Between your toes cool ooze
Teasing hot night
By the river killing sin
You let him unbutton
Your dress falling
In a puddle reflecting the moon

Into the water with him at your back
He’s the school rabble-rouser
You wear everything low cut

He does you twice
Not feeling the mosquito on his cheek

He’s the right size
You’re the prize
Hoping
He’ll always see you that way

And an owl hoots somewhere near
A chill of the future makes you shiver
Wondering if he’ll still like you
When you’re old

And the doubts come floating down the black waters
Magnifying this night of runaways

Is it all a game
That we have to play?

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