Kiss, kiss. Your lips pucker up, dredging the air for the next chink-chink, the next illicit drag, the next famous smile. God should have given you gills, that way you could be all suck and no blow — that would fit you well.
I’d fuck you if I wasn’t so angry. If you wouldn’t tell your friends about it after, seeking their approval for your one-off side-step. You’re straight as a drip’s drop but you’d screw me for the dinner party story and God knows, I’d give you one.
I’d kiss you so reluctantly you’d have to lean forward, I’d walk backwards breathing out and you’d follow me with your mouth open, desperate not to be rejected. Desperate to prove you can do girl on girl if you want. I’d look you in the eye but you wouldn’t catch a clue, your skull full of smoke and me me meeeeeeee as it is.
I’d smile and stop and close my lips. What would you do — initiate? Or stand there with your mouth open? Hah.
I’d take my jumper off.
I’d put another on.
I’d whisper in your ear — almost, “-”
Then take a call.
I’d smile and kiss you — no, I’d smile and kiss the air beside your ear.
I’d walk you, like you led him. One minute a leash, the next leaving him crying, torn apart because you have the attention span of a fucking tomato. One squeeze and you’re all blown out, leaving nothing more sustaining than slime and a stain.
You said once, it’s so much easier being the woman — we lead the real dance. And what are men but trinkets?
He could have been yours, he’ll always be mine. His tears were for you. They fell on me.
It took him a year of gasping to manage the words, “I never stood a chance.”
“No,” I said. “No.”
But here you are and I know you can’t resist a prize. So wear your dares, my love, and hitch up your skirt. You’ve long been watching my name, you’re clearly watching my smile, and I’m already walking backwards.
You open your mouth, as if to speak, and you step forward.
I breathe out.
You breathe in.
Photo Source: Planet Green
© 2011 Martha Williams. All rights reserved.