Zombie outfit had survived the drive over
I checked my grey skin in the rearview before I
the belly of sin my family
had always railed on about
in the early hours Sunday service
but this was not some
ghoulish rhapsody of
blood and guts and drugs and
to make Caligula call it an early night
this was just a bunch of smiling, geeky, gay souls, a little too tipsy,
dancing to “Dead Man’s Party” while Nightmare Before Christmas
played silent on the big screen TV
I was quiet
off in a corner
when a kind face
with sweet eyes I recognized
from art history class the year before
walked over- his black angel wings only accentuating his fair skin-
and offered me a drink of something
I’d never heard of
called Jungle Juice.
A few cups of that later
and I couldn’t shut up, couldn’t think straight,
couldn’t stand still,
for the first time in forever, I was having fun
Somehow I ended up
in my sweet angel’s car
and we talked about movies
for a while
as the college station
played a Siouxsie & The Banshees marathon
on the car’s fuzzy radio
I don’t remember exactly how
but my hands were
on his wings
and kissed me-
my head was swimming with the taste of liquor and tobacco and weed and bliss and sugar and death and sunshine and the air suddenly filled with werewolf movie fog and the radio wailed lamentations of a beautifully damned soul just like we were in that moment and I realized as his tongue touched mine his black wings and silk jacket meant he was Lucifer sent to tempt me and drag me to Hell and-
I fell out of the car.
Immediately, he was out by my side, checking for blood, caressing my cheek.
I assured him I was just a little overwhelmed, nothing more.
He helped me back into the passenger side seat.
Promised we didn’t have to do anything, we could just go back to talking and whatever from before.
I blushed and told him I wanted to go right back where we were.
He smiled and leaned back over.
in that sprawling subdivision
in the back of his slightly rusted Saturn
as the night
swallowed us whole
Clem Flowers (They/ Them) is a soft spoken southern transplant living in spitting distance of some mountains in Utah. In an eternal search for the perfect sweet potato fry. Nb, bi, and queer as the day is long, they live in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty. They can be found on Twitter at @hand_springs777