Landline
We decide
Nobilities aside
Prescribe the ephemeral
Feeling
Of being subject
To dramatic glances,
Their eyes,
Electric blenders
As you succumb to the sweet,
Sickly exchange,
In your short black dress
And your oily breath,
Flames inside your chest
And beads of sweat along your palm
I look for a loophole in oxygen
While you push at furniture.
