ass of her

i'm gooey, i'm forever twenty one,
calling to place a request from the pay phone.
back up the light booth with Just the right fit for
stalling. i walk in, high fiveless, to see
one of her sitting. she looks me feet first into
the room and says one thing,
which remains the traveling amen of what
i'm solving. sunburns, nights alone or aloud now,
with dinner exchanges and our charming truth or dare.
she wears the questions too, her lips the ass of her asking.
salute, smile with brows tight.
"what are you doing?"