A late night wandering
with a new friend and an old
looking for a girl who seemed to have lost her way.
A stumbling into a room
with games and merriment
seemed all too perfect when we were so discouraged.
We sat
and the verbal cards were dealt.
We volunteered
to be pawns of shame.
I took to the stage,
dressed in a corset.
He was on his knees,
acting a skit.
The opposite’s motions
were directed by me.
His motions
were directed by another.
I stood close to my subject
moving him as he spoke.
Another stood close to him
doing the same as the scene continued.
They were lovers,
the two subjects,
who were unable to control their own actions.
His head was turned,
he was on his knees.
I was directing his opposite.
A cry rang out,
‘Honey, i’d look at you
if only my face
weren’t stuck in this girl’s chest.’
From that point,
I knew
I’d met my match.
the next time we’d speak,
six months later,
he’d say
‘I never forget a good rack.’
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