She throws her body with wretched grace,
Each beat mirrored by blood and bone alike.
She cannot feel the hand on her shoulder,
Nor remember a face she saw moments before;
In this prolonged moment she has nought,
She doesn’t require anything
But the night air and clustered, sweating pressure,
From her single serving companions.
Paradoxical in their swift, unwieldly movements.
Bottle blondes and sticky striplings,
Colliding in an endless chasm of coition,
1:00 am commitment with an expiration date,
2:00 am desertion in the brisk black breeze
3:00 am tears over lost lovers and the futility of time
4:00 am reset.