Sunday, November 27, 2005

Subtle mean

Subtle Mean

I hate it when she grins at me like that --
I hate her teeth, they are tiny,
numerous and pointy
like those in the mouth of a piranha.

I’d imagine they are very efficient
in tearing the meat off my bones.

I stretched my lips in the direction of a smile.

“So what you are doing nowadays”, she asked,
smacking her words, “Are you happy where you are?”
She laughed, sounding like a C note being played
repeatedly on an broken piano. I answered her,

“Yes. I am happy.
Much happier.”

I regretted answering at all.

“Has the moon set on the horizon,
for you and your friend Henry?”
she jabbed, a snub in the form
of a question, a private joke
within the boundaries of small talk;

just to see how I’d react to the name,
not the question.

“It is, as it is.
The matter is closed,” I answered
an answer meaning, as much
as the question, nothing.

She grinned again,
her pointy little ivories

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