We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars

                                                                            as the roads around us

grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through a glass

                   already laced with frost,

but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out

                                                                                                of lullabies.

But damn if there isn’t anything sexier

                                                than a slender boy with a handgun,

                                                                          a fast car, a bottle of pills.