That Time I Fucked Pete Campbell

That time I fucked Pete Campbell
he kissed me very gently
on the neck down
into the soup bowl of
my clavicle
while shamefully skimming
the side of my arm
(and the side of my breast)
with the back of his hand.

He couldn't look me in the eye
but I knew when I met him
that his father died mid air
and his mother at sea.
So I kept my eyes shut
as he inhaled and rose to
meet me lip to lip.

A sad
sweet taste behind lingering
sips of his drink.
Dragging lips from mouth
to ear whispering:
"It matters to me that you're impressed."