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Joey Gould

My friend wants words
to stop a bullet
but they won't.
Love might, but then
think about the man
kissing the man
as a last earthly act:
love & dancing
under the palms
fragmented into flak.
How can you not shout, 
no. How can the wind
blow away the sun,
but it lowers the degree
& gives the entire
month goosebumps.
A goosebump June,
a line of crying
waiting to give blood.

Pulling my hair
out of my face
he kissed me
on the street
once. So happy,
I asked him
if he wanted to
get us both killed.

Just to kiss a man. 
those goosebumps,
plumes of water.
Music & club-dusk.
You don't have to kiss me,
but let me inscribe
a short passage on
the back of his shoulders
walking down a street.
His arm in my arm
will be out of view soon
around a corner
out into the dusk
& Florida
will still bear
oranges. Go see them
in the trees where they bloom.
Pick one instead
of all this-- maybe
it's impossible
to kill with citrus
on your lips.
Maybe it is. 
But I'd rather
be eating an orange
than... than
this trailing off
Wouldn't you?

Joey Gould is a frequent contributor to & a member of the Massachusetts Poetry Festival planning committee. He tutors writing at Framingham State University & lives in Hopedale, MA. He enjoys kissing boys & girls, and has been an Audubon member for nine years.