At 2 in the morning a cartoon rabbit appears in the peripheral
and I am reminded of all the things they told us not to do-
-that we do.

[A song, a dance, and a pamphlet
20 minutes in a classroom, and a ridiculous cartoon rabbit
to remind me of the virtues of astringent living,
free from the sweaty hands of an aged frat boy
delirious with psilocybe mushrooms and Pabst Blue Ribbon]

You roll over and slide a hand between my thighs
I know what happens now
the sleepy dance of primitive want
lethargic grunts and lazy gropes,
smoky tongues lapping at alcohol flavored sweat.

You pull me on to you
and in your fucked-up daze
salivate on my neck
and whisper those things
heard on cheap Internet porn;
Like a marionette I open my legs
and slide you in with all the poise and confidence
coke and cosmopolitans can give.

I wonder when the clear moments are,
the sober ones that tell the truth
and shed the uncompromising light of reality
and responsibility so poignantly forgotten-
do the burning hands and wet lips
remain the same after the poison is gone?

Every once in a while, that ridiculous cartoon rabbit appears
[usually in the bleary moments
hunched over a toilet purging alcohol and my sins]
and skitters around, singing and dancing
reminding me of the principles so easily discarded;
the foundation of pure decency
dismembered and eviscerated by
a romanticized desire to self destruct with you.

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