Innocuous halls of a candy store:
glass, safety, sweetness all around —
somewhere in københavn,
but it could have been anywhere,
my lovely dane,
with the same saccharine, sick smell,
but here his hand was somewhere,
counting change in my hand —
really, with no meaning at all —
just to count change. Softness on softness.
I felt his touch, slightly, a brush
and his name tag remarked
‘You’re from abroad?’ —
for a moment only us,
a caress; it was only us:
‘Yes, I’m from abroad,’ then a laugh, a smile.
I wanted his touch; though, I only grinned
And Jakob smiled back,
I kept rushing and swinging, relishing and imagining;
I kept breathing, He: continuing, space lengthening
into an ephemeral distancing then gone
into banal innocuity: a saccharine sweet smelling calm forgetfulness
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.