Highway wraps around
like a tourniquet:
I'm swollen, but my movement
isn't limited.

The map of your sex,
the veins and arteries crossing, overlapping,
capillaries merging,
remind me of the back roads of desire,
the dead ends of temptation:
your body, my near adventure.

But there's been a crash
by the side of the road
and there's no one here
to identify the body.