Love by a trash can by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

Can you hear the clanging

in the early morning crashes

of this sanitary symphony,

filling the alley

with aroma of rotten trout,

spilled two day off coffee rains,

pasta sauce turned bloody and green,

but behind the graffiti spray paint,

littering our moment

with tossed out romanticism;

we don’t need no hotel,

no bench by the lake,

no candlelit dinner table for two;

Just you and me, two spunks,

with spiked hair,

                        as bodies touch

no sparks, just the beautiful touch

of our leather jackets wrinkling

in union. How I love our leathery sound;

brightens the pinks of your softest

dirty gutter punk cheeks;

when I feel you reach out,

claw your fingers,

digging for my skin,

licking all over my face,

trying to find the bloody

with every biting breath

lunging for my tongue

like a sponge,

                        hoping to taste my blood.

I bite back viciously

searching for love in your mouth

by this trash can. Why take on

these odors by fighting the fever,

I take you in much deeper

by tasting every stink

of your unwashed flavor, swallowing

your smoky nicotine addictive scent,

standing up, unzipping

your see through stains,

your love beating me down,

taking all your tender lipstick punches

on my teeth— fully broken

just like my nose;

                        all this pain—

throbbing me harder, banging

heads together, scratching

your claws all over my mix

tape fantasy, you’re the Clash

to my Sex Pistol; sweating

our excitement rising underneath;

stepping over roses wilted, empty

champagne bottles, half-eaten Valentine

chocolates as we suck closer, clinging

to faces, spewing tastes of love

oaths covered in blood.


Adrian Ernesto is the author of Flashes & Verses… Becoming Attractions from Unsolicited Press, Between the Spine from Picture Show Press and La Belle Ajar & We Are the Ones Possessed from CLASH Books and Speaking con su Sombra with Alegría Publishing. Adrian lives with his wife and their cat Woody Gold in Los Angeles. twitter.com/PoetNotRockStar