Poetica Spontenaium 7.24.03
Sinking
Quick sand quick
Into brown brown eyes
I tried quelling
The thudder that reminded
me they weren’t yours.
Apologies are weak and worthless
said the man at the counter
after discounting a pack
of favorite smoke sticks,
sliding them swiftly into my hand.
In a too long stare
In a stumble of words to ask…
I smiled and waved
And he,
he-not you,
turned
smiled, and turned away.
Quick quick, in a thunder
my pulse quickened
like a body memory
choosing to remember the perfect breast stroke.
And away I went.
Fathoms.
No Comments Yet