You Know I Lack Technique

Under the avenues you licked me thin,
stole my appetite
and left nothing
but your split peach mouth.

Stalking supple vowels in silence
I threw rocks at black faced garages,
hoped their cry
would turn your fishbone ears.

You know I lack technique-
my flat-chest pebbles
fall to the sea long before yours tire,
teasing waves, with kisses.