Aggressively self-conscious
His excited fingers stumble along the outline of her body,
Bemused in the smoke.
His mind flies as his nerves sing.
Beautiful, behind the smoke;
She’s used to better.
Losing her patience,
Kissing his warm neck with a mouthful of smoke,
A limp wrist and bored finger.
It stings her eyes;
Smoke, suspended and still in the room,
Becoming part of the air.
His smile, awkward and pale;
Sick with her sense of failure.
Dazed by the smoke
She grabs her skirt, tucks in her blouse;
Watching him watch her through the screen of smoke
From his naked mattress.
Her shape is a ghost behind its shield,
He was touching her only moments ago.
She is gone. The door locks.
Sunrise paints his time lost.
In the room, smoke tells of past events.
She is busy living; he won’t call.
This, between him and the smoke, suspended and still in the room,
Smoke that has become part of the air.