|
{conversations} brett jenkins The only kinds of these conversations we ever have are drunk conversations, because we are both too self-respecting to come on to each other without the permission of alcohol. It’s always that way— the faint/strong smell of rum/vodka in the back/front seat of my/your car. Pants down, music up, sweating like it’s mid-July because sometimes it is. I’m pulling, you’re pressing. We’re all just machines when it comes down to it. Machines that run on strong chemicals and sit in the backs/fronts of other machines to push each others’ buttons. |
