Tremble

My neighbor is velvety and kicks serious game.

So sweet garlic refuses to hang tight

in his mouth. He pulls women to his wide chest

each time as if he’s won the Lotto. He rocks

them gently and gentler. My neighbor

is a master spooner. He knows not of desire, but only

the rules of engagement. He says, I miss

to your breathing. He floats in his museum,

of gams, drifting from frame to frame.