For Recreational Purposes

The black X on your hand rubs off below my ribs. You look at it like you meant to. You haven't asked my name. You ask if I'm sure. "Yeah." Yeah. (—yeah.) Here? (—here.) There. (—there.) Cold tile against my back. Your chain catches at my mouth. You pull it loose. I pull you back. You laugh without letting go. Your hand pauses at my hip. I move it lower. "Here?" "There." Here. (—ere.) Yeah. (—ah.) There. (—th—) Yeah. (—yeah.) There. (—ere—ere.) Your fingers press into my shoulder. The stall partition rattles. Neither of us moves away. On your way out, you lift my shirt to check the ink. "Still there?" "For now."