"Lukewarm Iced Tea" by Erick Flores Diaz

Our eyes meet on the rear-view mirror Scorched earth passes by Stretched by the mile, rolled windows for letting the poem breathe. Tainted. A light contour is drawn on your white tank top, above, fifty-three well-placed chest hairs are just enough. God, this drink is awful. Then why do you keep drinking it? He says, as he maintains a firm grip on my thigh with one hand as he drives with the other. Hollow teeth and all. I don't know (I do) I wanted to try something new, Feel something, be someone. We order Chinese takeout, you insist on paying and I let you grope my manhood, sheltered by a well fitting pair of washed Levi’s in return. Me gusta la coquetería, me gustas tú. Two solitary ice cubes cling, melting by the nightstand, Long gone are the excuses obscured by curtains. A card is drawn, our breaths equalize. We watch Ripley on a screen fashioned with a rosary on one of its corners. While he bounces, he looked at me with those blank eyes so enamoured, So lost At sea, Like the body of Dickie Greenleaf deep inside the Amalfi coast. His drowned gaze, Somewhere in between Lust And midnight, Penetrates me, to the point where I couldn’t distinguish who was penetrating who. So I find myself here, while your head lays on my chest. I know what you want to hear, but for you, it doesn’t. You play with my pubes and I kiss your forehead. Sometimes We laugh, comparing ourselves to the TV series that we barely acknowledge - Good thing we don’t have a tragedy of our own nor bizarre love triangles - Right. Inhale, exhale. He kisses my neck, mi amor, mi vergoncito, mi Bocanegra. I can’t say that I don’t feel the same, Showing restraint is of no use upon wretched land. Outside the Jacarandas bloom, The sunset has punched its card. This is something I cannot give you. Added weight forces my chest you arise even further, it knows where I am, This body of mine, For its going the extra mile, So there’s no honor among thieves, Fine, if you insist, I will go wherever you go, I will try the chicken tikka masala, I will reply to your “mi amores”, I will play your games, I will be the stud who steals you a kiss in public. I will love you the way you want to be loved. Solo no me pidas la noche. ————————————– Erick Flores Diaz called us from Morelia, Michoacán. México. voicemailpoems.org/submit/ facebook.com/voicemailpoems x.com/voicemailpoems bsky.app/profile/voicemailpoems.bsky.social instagram.com/voicemailpoems