245 Trioxin Dr. By Chem Flowers

Zombie outfit had survived the drive over 

I checked my grey skin in the rearview before I 

shuffled into 

the belly of sin my family 

and preachers 

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 

enough debauchery 

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 

and Basquiat 

and Haring 

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 

he smiled 

leaned in 

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.

moonlit bliss 

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

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