The Haunting

When it storms,

it’s foolish to trust

that the ghosts

in the backseat

will lead you

to safety.

I mean

I’ve made a few deals;

woken up with my nose

half-gone,

let Hafner’s wife suck me off

in the foyer

while he, that miserable prick,

was upstairs fucking Sherry –

my dreadful neighbor

with the two screaming kids.

In the middle of this blowjob

fantasy

is when I open my eyes

to my reflection

fist-pumping in front

of the bathroom mirror at work –

Flynn looks over his shoulder

bewildered;

piss still streaming like icing onto
a pink urinal cake.