Michaelsun Knapp

Slow the way you like it.

the stars wink like the girls you slip
dollars and compliments to,
phone numbers and hotel keys to.

Butter’em up so you don’t feel
dirty; polish off a G&T
so the guilt goes down smooth
the way momma used to make it

scrub your conscience
with lye and pumice
they work as well as promises,
lies, and I-love-you’s paid for
by the hour

finish a few more glasses
fork over a couple of bills
drink up the nerve to walk over
ask her to dance
as fast as you’re dying


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