I Sold My Soul to Burn Ants With a Magnifying Glass

Last year,
Down by the park,
In a s****y apartment,
I walked in on a couple making things up,
Lies and love, mostly.
They were alchemists,
Or something like that,
Or so they said.
Together, their bodies moved,
Their minds moaned,
Their eyes were glued to their eyelids,
Their bodies were glued to their bodies.

She looked up at him,
Saying, “please?”
He said, “yes,”
(Looking up to her from the gutter)

They finished at the start,
Right where they were comfortable,
Right where they were left.
They finished mounting a trophy to the wall,
Dancing crazily on the fire escape.

They had started a year before,
Two bodies and a longing for tomorrow,
Two packed bags and an abundance of bad poems.
Twenty fingers,
Twenty toes,
And two souls for sale.

Someone once told them some words of advice:
“Chase the shadows,
     But only when time is locked in place,”
Now, the duty is theirs:
Rewash the sheets with bleach,
Sell your soul
     To chase the highway signs,
Sell your soul,
     To burn ants with a magnifying glass,
Sell your souls,
     But only for a profit.
And lock your doors when you can’t sleep.
     (Protection)