Two handsome twins on shiny red motorbikes ride down a road, one following the other into a hairpin turn.

One twin imagines cutting the other open to crawl inside his skin and be reborn, wild-eyed and free.

One twin pulls over on the roadside and waits for the other with a lug wrench clutched in his fist.

The two twins wrestle on the roadside, hungry for each other, closer to the Devil than to God.

Three card-playing Jeffs are revealed to be the father, the brother, and the current boyfriend of 'You.'

A 12-year-old boy watches the twins wrestle from a passing car while his parents pretend to see nothing.

'You' lies in a suburban bedroom with bunk beds, listening to someone sing softly in the bathroom.

'You' stands in a dark hotel hallway, hesitating before a specific door that has wounded him before.

Love is compared to cancer — something swallowed that now has its hands inside 'You.'

'You' and a lover make out in a seedy bar while someone nearby buys them a free drink.

Two motorbikes race neck and neck but no checkered flag appears at the hoped-for finish line.

A departed lover's belongings are described, left behind in a room he will not return to.

The speaker promises to come back from the dead and walks toward his lost lover's singing voice.

'You,' recovered from illness, looks out a beautiful window and sees stars spinning in the air like wrenches.

'You' sits in a car next to a beautiful boy, who reaches over and touches him.

The poem opens with twin men named Jeff racing on shiny red motorbikes, one following the other into a hairpin turn that signals romantic crisis. One twin waits on the roadside with a lug wrench, embodying the threat and promise that love holds simultaneously. Card games, a lonely bedroom, and a hesitant man in a hotel hallway chart the recurring cycle of longing and its failures. A seedy bar, a race with no finish line, and a room full of abandoned belongings map the wreckage of relationships that could not last. The speaker promises to return from the dead for his lost lover, and recovery from illness brings a vision of stars spinning like wrenches — beauty renewed. The poem closes with two men in a car, one reaching over to touch the other, and an unnamed feeling taking root.

The major beats of gay desire, pursuit, and bittersweet connection.

'You' is described as being in love with one or both of the Jeff twins riding on the road.

The more experienced twin rides farther ahead on the road, described as world-wise and world-weary.

The twin throws the lug wrench into the air, where it catches the light and looks like a star.

God makes himself tuna sandwiches but discovers the fish has gone bad.

'You' plays cards with three Jeffs; one is on the same team, and together they are winning big.

The boy who has never had a brother is told to make the empty backseat the shape of everything he needs.

A heart with two heads is chained, dunked in a glass booth of river water, and thrown into the bay.

The speaker describes 'You' loving the feel of riding a motorbike — speedometer, handgrips, and the knowing road.

'You' buys bruise cream and salad ingredients at a grocery store as afternoon light streams through the windows.

A vision of blood and red light hemorrhaging from everywhere at once overwhelms the poem's scene.

Two lovers dance cheek to cheek in a room, though one of them may not really be there.

The speaker says 'You' only ever wanted one safe place to love someone, but has not found it yet.

The twins appear first on motorbikes, then in a garden, then in a field of daisies, impossible to pin down.

The lovers' shared past — things they used to dream about and do together — is tenderly recalled.

'You' feels his heart taking root in his body when touched, discovering something with no name for it.

This pool captures the stranger, smaller moments that give the poem its emotional depth and strangeness. The twins' pursuit is anchored in 'You' being in love with one or both of them, while God's spoiled tuna and a boy's empty backseat hint at appetite that cannot be satisfied. A two-headed heart drowns in river water as a public spectacle, and the pure physical pleasure of riding a motorbike is celebrated before its emotional costs appear. Buying bruise cream in a grocery store and a hemorrhaging vision of red light make love feel bodily, even when it destroys. Lovers dance in a room where one of them may already be gone, and the poem ends with 'You' feeling a heart take root — hopeful, but shadowed by all the Jeffs who came before.

Quieter scenes of hunger, heartache, and the textures of desire.

The speaker warns 'You' not to choose sides yet and to consider the hairpin turn carefully.

The twins are revealed to hate each other for being identical, yet each Jeff wants to be the other one.

The speaker and 'You' are identified as the twins themselves — together they are memory and fantasy.

The twin holding the lug wrench also wants to sleep next to the other chest to chest or chest to back.

'You' plays cards in a room described as the living room with the pink carpet, a lover's intimate space.

'You' hopes the unknown voice singing softly in the bathroom is singing to him, even without knowing who it is.

The speaker urges 'You' repeatedly and desperately: 'Open the door again. Open the door.'

One head of the two-headed heart monologues about hesitation and fulfillment while the other head drowns.

'You' was once driving toward something in love and then found himself driving the other way.

The poem announces itself as a love story even as love is described as wounds and bruises that will not heal.

Afternoon grocery-store light transforms into the light inside 'You' — like a blessing, like a knee in the chest.

The warning 'Consider the hairpin turn' recurs in the seedy bar as hands become indistinguishable in the dim light.

The poem defines meaning-making: you take two things and try to define the space between them.

The twins are revealed to be just one person talking to 'You,' but 'You' cannot understand him.

Four Jeffs — two windows and two doors — try to tell 'You' something but refuse to tell everything.

This pool follows the poem's most pivotal revelations and emotional pivots, from its opening caution to its final refusal to explain itself. The twins' mutual hatred and the collapse of the speaker's identity into all the Jeffs reveal that desire and selfhood are inseparable in the poem. A heart already drowning while one of its heads rehearses the rhetoric of love captures the gap between what love promises and what it delivers. The poem names itself a love story even as it describes love as wounds, and the grocery-store light transforms from ordinary comfort into something sublime and painful. The seedy bar reprises the hairpin turn warning, the poem defines meaning as the space between two things, and the twins are finally unmasked as one person 'You' can no longer understand. Four Jeffs — windows and doors — close the pool by refusing to tell everything, inviting the reader to come closer and listen.