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Cream of the Cool

he is twenty one and he wraps it up like an old pro. i am turned on by this act, by his efficiency. i am nervous and i don’t care. he blows fresh smoke into my mouth and i inhale; a crude, yet pretty, ghost kiss. i don’t feel anything.

we are no longer at the rock quarries on the picnic table. we are sitting on a couch that is too soft and he is showing me how to use a bong. i don’t like the word or the look of it but the fumes sneak inside my brain and suddenly everything is muted,…

At once I wish I was
a solid plate of glass: imutable, maybe
with a sheen of white, of only blue, or simply green
An air of clear and cool irrefutability
Objects raise no questions of trust

But I am beast, braid, bone of bird
A marked lilt; lisp of carnal curvature.
To penetrate the steep and slender eyes
that stand in stark relief like mountains
in their hollow sheaths, requires no more
than a mirror.

Hands at rest; they are human hands.

To break the inevitable fall
of tears against tin roof cheeks
I am practicing the art of
disappointment
; wearing her
heavy shawls on raw shoulders,
getting accustomed to the sting.

In cafes, I order a slice of
chocolate cake, sit myself in
front of it. We stare at each
other awkwardly until I leave,
not a single crumb out of place

Painstakingly do I curl my hair,
paint my lips, ink my eyelids with
the precision of an alcoholic's

I am not going to sit here and pretend
I ever fought an urge to touch you
because my heart wears armour so thick
it refuses to reach for things it cannot hold.
My brain cannot extend
the moments we spent into anything more
than those moments. The first rule
of being a daisy pinned against someone
else's side is don't tease yourself.
Wanting more is papercuts between fingercrooks
and lemons and salt.

I will admit, however,
that my cerebellum…