I had a lover
who pumped like a piston
until his fuel was spent.
Then, garaged in my privacy,
he’d shudder a metallic quiver
and fall asleep.
His timing never altered.
Once I reached for him
while crossing a street.
He waved me away. ”Don’t
touch me in public,” his voice,
an angry engine, revved.
Not even in the dark?
My young heart stalled.