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Secret Songs of the Passive-Aggressive:Part 6 - "Touchless" |
We talked for hours, Over coffee and smoke Crowing about books at full volume. Puffing and sipping, Fresh syllables dripping From our flushed lips to a smooth Black plastic countertop hot enough To send them skittering every which way. Some soaked into the tightly belted belly Of napkins in their container, A few rolled off the edge to the floor, But not before the rest Found purchase and clung to our ears. We talked for hours, Filling up our parched throats With bitter drying liquid and cloud. Not quite flirtation, Exchanging frustration At our daily witness of smooth Predators. How it's enraging enough To see a toothy smile have its way With us, blithly filling its swollen belly, But that such an empty container Can climb over us to the top floor With the silent collusion of the rest Of us, brings a red flush to our ears. We talked for hours, while my hooded eyes sought Distraction in the clowns behind me. Seven nights prior I'd named my desire. Nobody watched as I traced smooth Hands up from ankles, bent just enough For the day's tension to fan its way Head to toe, then stood with palms on my belly. Flushing distraction from my container, I sank to a seat on the floor And made my wish, breathing, at rest, That the unsaid would fly to your ears. |