Doing it Jack Allen Style

by Lynne Hayes

With the grip of a possessed lover,
you took my hand
leading me backwards
to the alley where we met,
broke each other.
Amid the concrete, empty soda cans
and trashy love songs from sleepy alley men,
we burned each other
with love that left our signatures
on the walls, graffiti-style,

Yet,
as the band played on and
your breath grew strong,
you never heard my nails break,
or saw my fingers bleed onto mortar
as I made a crack,
big enough to hook my life into.