Written by Matt Panesh
Photo: © olly18
knees rigid, his fingers tapped at them staccato,
as if trying to remember an access code.
He was as clumsy in flesh as he had been in word,
Patter consisting of –
His job, numbers
his future, bright
his collection of star trek magazines, all but complete…
He’d explained as if to a child why Uhuru was iconic,
why Justice had perfect poise
why Liberty’s boobs were hypnotic.
and why he was the biggest feminist of them all.
His fingers tried a different combination.
“Sometimes,” she said in silence,
her thoughts echoing about her head,
“It would be great to drop the rigidity,
take a walk in the rain,
let my defences dissolve,
let my worries slide down the drain
in soggy brown clotted lumps.”
“I’m getting a promotion soon…” he said.
His words now tapped at her.
trying to unlock her box,
barely aware of her head.
Together, she sat alone on the couch