Rafters lit with strobe lights,
broken paneled reflections of
31 years of bottled insights,
Air laced with metallic smiles,
sporadic flickers of someone else’s lighter.
I twirl absentmindedly.
Plume by Loscil.
I have no business here.
You watch me with
smile wide and big and
sides of me are split,
Your laugh some
You watch me with 10 plus years of
a bawling inner child,
that end in stifled violence,
milky looks and a muted
I am wearing
my best calf impression:
doe-eyes and stealing all the glances,
blue tights, black heeled sandals that scuff the floor as I
daydream in public,
rub a soft elbow,
sip a virgin seltzer tonic with
cherries and some other light garnish
(stay as close to God as possible)
watch you with marrow armor and
I’m a blue-black swirl of approachable silence.
Twirl somewhere nearby and deign to give you
open eyes for at least
twenty seconds at time.
Laugh a swaying knife.
You asked for it.