Hot iron fires, cold hardwood floors,
Moldy shower, and squeaky doors.
The dog lounges about while other things steal its food:
Feral cats, deer, and possums, birds, squirrels, and racoons.
The lake mirrors blinding sunlight, too far to touch.
I chuck plenty of rocks, but I don't skip much.
My nose, always stuffy with the smell of this place.
Sniffing out somewhere to which we could race,
Away from the bleak, the blinding, and the cold,
Somewhere warm and dark, where your hands, I could hold.
Away from the pious and liberally cruel,
Away from labels of slut, whore, and tool.
Away from prying eyes and angry prophecy,
Away from condemnation fo