"breast milk for your cocktail"

for four years there was warm milk
the hard percussion on my porch at five forty two
whether i was conscious or even better off
he would come with white homogeny
inside latex labeled glass
(i was too smart to ask him to come inside & sit quietly
by my side & drink it with me)

my clumsy mistakes replacing cleverness
became his dignity
the bottles as bedfellows my eyes
closed
he wouldn't ever play for me in
in C, the only way simple men arrange notes, so
fundamentally

the swell of my chest evened out since then
I am sure that I know nothing now,
I quit the whole white shit
& took up independent breathing
I open my own mail now & there is a coupon inside
for a risk free trial.

my stupidity tells me there is no such thing
but i complete the offer
--

I AM AN OBTUSE ANGLE IN AUGUST
at five forty one
teeth compulsively clicking all the the hair
on my body ready to defend itself
remembering to breathe
remembering the one time we were kissing through glass
the milk gorging each side of the pa(IN)ne.

the white truck ignites the block with an unexpected roar that ive never seen in anyone before
my nose burns & the trees quake with his unmuffled exhaust(ion) pipe
the windows are tinted now
the green eyes are encased in sunglasses now, so they can ignore the dawn, like everyone else.
(THINGS CHANGE
NO MATTER
HOW MUCH
YOU BEG)

I realize slowly, my mouth opening;
my milk will be cold today.

you stop the car and you
check the address, double check in super time. your
arms are skinny and your
suit is
black/brown/blue you
drop your briefcase in the gutter you
have thought about the next ninety seconds for ninety minutes
and only in the previous ninety minutes and then
they will never bother you again.

your hair sticks to your face your tie unWINDS ISTELF as you
saunter up the sidewalk too fast but too slow
I stand, trip on a stair sit back down in a
I'm a damsel, damn me miscarriage in a moment. my
chest has reverted to its rising/falling/rising/falling
there are no more detachments ignoring glances and missed romance chances as you pinch my shoulder blades in your small hands
your thighs pushing into my thighs as you pounce
onto me your lips too dry,
elbows acute angles in my ribs
your mouth smells of four year old milk
but i kiss, attempting bliss
and missing
but i keep kissing.

"I was trying to tell you that earlier. But you weren't listening. So, you shouldn't call back"