Sam Stecher

She Claims to Like My Face in Dim Light

She claims to like my face in dim light
She says it looks lived in
She likes the rough edges of my palms and finger tips
She says my lack of symmetry makes me match only as much as I should
She remembers breaking curfew 11 years ago
and says this feels like that
Just like that
that it feels like the air between us and the stars as we rest in what we are wearing and what
we are not on the hood of a car hidden on a crop road
hidden between the curtains of rows and rows and rows of tassel high corn
She tells me between kisses
I’m only sleeping with you because I had never seen anybody reading a book in a bar
before
I tell her I was only reading a book in a bar because I didn’t have anybody to sleep with



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