The Blue Shorts

In your blue shorts
you wrap mice

upstairs
while your twin sister

sails panties
across the room like frisbees

outside
the parking lot

feels for your thighs
puts its

asphalt hands
on your shorts

its black hands
moist with fog

while I sit
in the company van

and remove
a sinful nickel

from the
steering wheel

the mice struggle
but will be delivered

one eye
one tail neatly packed

while your scaredy-cat God
runs up your blue shorts