on a friday night
in front of the television,
chomping on ice--
sucking on it to melt it down,
cracking it slowly with my molars,
rolling it along my tongue, and then
biting down one last time before it disappears
i am reminded of
a night out at the bar
amidst peeled-off yuengling labels
and furtive glances
trying to sober up by drinking
another glass of ice water
i am reminded of
what a beautiful man told me
as he listened to me bite
and break and swallow:
and break and swallow:
i read somewhere
that chomping on ice is
a sure sign of
sexual frustration.
after this encounter
i complied with a
cease and desist
on all ice eating endeavors
out of spite --and maybe denial.
but tonight i am feeling
reckless,
so i may destroy
every last
crystalline cube
in the place.
No comments:
Post a Comment