grease he ubered to my throat with a handful of oil dripping down to his elbow. on my old laptop the movie played & told us where to put our faces. often, i found it best to just accept being the girl in his fry. girl meat: chicken, sometimes hot dogs, & turkey bacon. he told me this was his favorite part & then took a bite out of my throbbing. the bed broke in half like a communion wafer. he told his family i was a girl & i said, "nothing to see here." i would have done anything to be the medallion or the slick-back. took a ride through raw hamburger & on the other side parked to watch the moon lay empty. he was always hungry. i thought being close to him i might learn to be that ardent with my own tunnels. held a fork like a clutched key. walked home at night vibrating with "no no no." how to become a fold. the butcher in the heart of every shadow. the movie still playing. we danced on our own cutlets. pointed, "there is my thigh" & he claimed to know me in the culinary way. a recipe reached for in the earnest credit rolling drive into the sunset mouth. someone can say "i love you" & just mean "i want to own the most precious parts of you." the duct tape it took to be holy. his body gone but hands still worlding around my throat. oil stained bed. "i'd like to see you again." movie still playing. starting over. the beach ready for bare us. the ocean, thickening. a girl in the corner looking down at her ankles. press her like a folding chair into nowhere. dollhood in the dark. shadows waving hello/goodbye.