by the eggs,aisle 12
I tried not to
run her over, and
the grocery store,
she saw me
carrying a bottle
of whiskey, and
I saw her
carrying a container
of milk, and
we knew it
He nearly ran me over,
foot lead on the pedal, pure
Later in the grocery store,
next to the eggs, I reached for my 2%
And sealed my
As he walked out with his bottle of
She sits in the café, a table in the back
every Tuesday (except that one last month)
from noon until eight p.m.
She never orders coffee
only black tea. She never reads a book
only back issues of Cosmopolitan – – cover to cover.
…and some days I want to know her.
I met Paul when I was newly
12–he had turned 19 that
My mother paid him
5 dollars an hour to
“This is the way 2
guys show their
that feel good?”
When I was 15 –
I told my psychiatrist how Paul
had made me feel, and that girl
I fingered in the backseat couldn’t
make me –
“I’ve really missed you
He smells like sex today, of sweat and musk.
His hair a mess, dark denim jeans too tight,
His mind captivated by thoughts of lust.
He left her after the rite of cutting crust
off burnt toast, methodically chewing each bite.
She smells of sex today, his sweat, his musk.
He had noticed the perfection of her bust-
firm and no more than a handful, just right.
His mind was reeling with thoughts of lust.
Her plump lips were painted heavily in rust
lipstick, smearing with every drunken bite.
She’ll smell like sex tomorrow, acrid sweat and musk.
He whispered in her ear how he would thrust
her deep and fuck her “real hard” all night.
Her mind succumbed to his desire for lust.
He imagined she wanted one to trust,
but she didn’t want him to be her white knight,
just wanted to smell like sex again, of sweat and musk,
enjoying the feeling, captivated by her lust.