to my seat? Walking back in forth,
needing to be seen. Making a rut in
the rug. Snug in my chair. All I see is
her feet. My head down in my lap. My eyes

glued to the screen.  Still she taps
on my shoulder. She breathes. The things
she says smolder. She's a disease. I slouch
down in my seat. She's talking to the window,

the window behind me. Looking like
a ***** and grinding like peppercorns
on a piece of meat. I scan the room for a hole
to crawl in, so I won't be seen. I stare at the fly

on the table. If I grew a pair of wings! She stands
over me. She breathes. She's a disease. I slouch
lower in my seat. If the floor opened I'd jump in,
covered in rock and rubble with a white-tooth grin!