Hawaiian Shirts to Church in Texas

The pit a bit slicker and a good bit of arm hair ago, body weight too, in some basement house party when he puts his hands up and thinks I’ll be here forever.

And he is, in the pew, with the sweat sticking the same, and then not sticking, creeping. Salt burns out of the armscye, seeking return to shore.

Bright yellow turned piss, where secretions lap over.

Sherman’s march to the Sea.