He's got his teeth on her sleeve.
A bank account of pining.
Their hair twists around the pilot's caps.
She plays with words like tinker tots and starts to chisel through.
Soaking skin in oils.
Waiting for snow to fill their time.
And she's just fingering the piggy bank.
A crop top, push up bra and a rosary hanging from her bedside table.
And the only thing she can cross off her to-do list is cleaning her sheets and bootlegging.
She smokes only two cigarettes because her throat is sore.
While her best friend sits in her name tagged passenger seat.