a poem by Michelle M. Mead (2 of 3)

Chair Car

easier to glimpse pristine covers of modern literature
with faces of lives lived poetically and spare
than to think of desires pocketed and strategically placed
where gazing eyes go blind to see these fireworks
waltzing on tiptoes near the cracked edges of a window

here with knees closed tightly and skirts the proper length
thoughts of you driving my hands to distraction
they inch to a place that calls for the feel of fingers in flesh
window reflections like gold bars in this bastion of banal
and suffocating silence

propriety propped up beside the coffee ring stains
and napkins twisted in tiny funnel shapes
in each roll of paper is the tightness of these thoughts
the tightness of my stockings and skirt rubbing me
my lips wet above and below
and the sound of cell phones to break this reverie

uncontrollable hands cannot hear the ringing
just heart pounding as hands move faster and deeper
I begin shifting until I am breathing short and quick
with this rubbing, this blessed heat between skin
twined within myself to reach the climax
the passage of this solitary
commute.

© by Michelle M. Mead
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #6 ~ November 2009    previous poem     next poem