Presently
2023There’s suits you’ll never wear; suits them
Gossamers of gabble adorn walls
Strike my face, like footslogged trees
And He even has the gall to cross his legs
As the pinstripes draw me in
Floating, in a sense. Can’t see much from here
And don’t try, the air is alien. Wouldn’t even breathe,
Begets those ridges. Phone camera says so.
In a room, penumbrae in their places
Pounding away, pounding, pounding
Can’t form the right synapses for nights like this
There’s murmuring, maybe closer
The photonic dust storms form
cataracts on my astigmatized eyes.
In a room, outward—swaths of silhouettes
Moguls, shirtless, pantsless even
Intimately exchanging trade secrets, no doubt
Or they share a touch, two, three, become one
Others haven’t the same luxury
She’s seated at her vanity and well sees
The microscopic mounds speckled across her neb
I’m looking too. Maybe staring.
My patina outlined reflection and there’s hairs
I didn’t know I had. Tweeze to come back
She can’t see the follicles burgeoning
On my shoulders, or she won’t.
In a body, supine
Lay down to rise
Cross leg and vein pinches
Call me a hyposthesiac
At least my cat can hear me flail.