7-11, Connecticut, 2 am

by mickharris

tender cherry

sucked

medicine sweet

sick

slick

sliding

syllables say oh,

please,

say yes.

 

bottle

blooming

red

roots half an inch of

rusty brown.

lighter than the lady on the box,

smiling,

slipping two fingers into just one curl and she stretches,

strain to the light, tumble 

into my hand hollow off the shelf

come home with me,

she says, 

and we’ll make a new you.

 

shimmy-thin hips

bird-boned

dip past denim

curves deep shadowed in convenience glare.

flat feet

moving one, two,

one two, one.  stop.

swivel out, slide in,

cup a selected treat.

consider.

reject.

rub past me

on your way out to the camaro

breathing boiled corn sweet sweat and perfume

down my spine.

Advertisements