i have interviews; plastic plants are placed squarely throughout stale spaces the real plants are on desks and on window sills, mainly private offices where women sit and look out windows; they wait once a month for window washers to lather the glass and itβs calm, their legs are crossed they wait for the squeegee to screech and then they wipe away the rain stains that should have been pressed in a diary
windows get clean slates at night you can hardly tell that anything is ***** but today the windows are stained through sunlight one can see it all even the grasshopper leg pinned to the fourth floor window where a man is flossing his teeth after having craved a super food salad that he wonβt allow his assistant to know about
i have interviews; and i will pick at my **** stockings hide my pleasant coffee stains but not shave my ***** hair i will sit with the women who take pleasure in windows; collar bones with freckles and sun kissed tints eyes always nearly closed because of the succulent hisses by cubicle #3; they slither through lungs and offer more than how many words i can type before someone lights up another cigarette