18 11 18 11
1
A random dude
with an inner calm
that did not reflect
in outer moves
In the first instance,
bad news
A mirror-walled room
in his ex-house
where your reflection
did not move
to correspond you
Curved as a sickle moon,
you gaze down
at me
and bracket your story
sheepishly,
and say:
look at me, boring you
I forget,
was this before or after
I claimed
that the moon
could easily be Jupiter
if one wasn’t particular
about red spots and such,
mere astronomical rules
2
18 11 18 11
time and date
on a mooned wallpaper
You photograph
in blurry haste
I throw around the word associate
I suppose I mean,
how could the photograph
at a later date,
not but remind me
of your face,
scoffing so rakishly
at my unscientific, cosmic claims
Narrating
oddly memorable
random tales
Nobody takes the stairs anymore
Bitten smooth lower lip
A mirror later, while wiping off
kajal, registers a glow. Cheeks
in bloom. Watermelon juice
with & no ice, last drink. Missing
earring. I have never been
able to ascertain, the extent of
your affection or the degree of
your inclination towards me.
AC interior of a car, your shoulder
cushioning my head, held
hand. Held as if I matter.
Three months, you sounded so
certain. No Solomun, indifferent to
persuasion, the DJ. Mixing cranberry and
vodka with a pint of beer, while reflecting
my wonder at your counter-intuitive
preference for women with feminist
bent, not contrived you said. It just so
happened. Stairs, shall we take the stairs?
The impression I got, sometimes. Preference
order: substances, interests, work, me. Of
course,
completely understandable. But other times,
like on brightly lit stairs, you hold as if there's
nothing else you can see, nothing else
you'd rather be doing. You hold as if
I am it. A goodbye inscribed in salt.
Nobody takes the stairs anymore.
Not deep, I know. Maybe three
months is all it'll take, to fade.
Holding my hair back, a smack, ah
the suggestiveness. Is the body
indiscriminate or can I read
into the touch, the embrace?
My disproportionate eagerness
is something I've reconciled with.
A goodbye done well. Just enough
left behind, to maybe, meet again.
Guilty pleasure
Contempt
felt in part but
not with real zeal
Amoral you
Hard sugar candy
Delighting to suck on but
the kind that inevitably
leaves the mouth smarting
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