Ethan Christensen
NOTES ON A CONDITIONAL FORM (HOOKUPS)
1.
You could have kissed me.
You should have kissed me.
Shea butter on my lips. Flash of
neon below Warehouse sweats.
Touched the constellation of nerves
like freckles on my forehead.
2.
You could have taken it slow.
Could have made It feel like home.
Anko flatpacks and unlit candles.
A St Christopher pendant
lost to bedside detritus.
I know you by crumbs
in this renovated tenement.
3.
You could have asked first.
The best ones always asked first.
An unstoppable force meets my neck:
the heavy hand of God
desperate for a blowjob.
4.
You could have worded it better.
You should have known better.
Took a filleting knife to The Moment:
Are you clean?
Like I’m single-use, destined for landfill,
prepped only for your pleasure.
5.
You could have given me something.
At least you didn’t give me something.
Could’ve lobbed me the towel, first,
before the long drive home
to burn the milky way off my chest.
Shed my self of these transactions
that always put me in debt.
6.
You could have held your tongue
while I slunk into your comforter.
Post-nut clarity, a sermon on The World.
Fingers flayed your waffle-top thread
as I willed, for the second time,
please finish soon
so I can get out of here.
7.
You could have thrown me a drive safe.
Severed me edgeways with I’ll see you round.
Serenade my steps through your stippolyte door,
flush of relief when the deadlock twists seismic.
Something guttural, like a cleared throat.
The clunked bolt my final full stop.
Ethan Christensen is a writer from The Coromandel, currently based in Kirikiriroa. His work appears in publications across Aotearoa, and he contributed to the editorial team at Overcom in the latter half of 2024. He hopes others can see themselves in some of the lived experiences he puts to page, whatever they may be.