i’m draped in wide fluorescent lighting,
slightly mollifying.

I come to myself
and collapse
on top of the thing playing
footstool
before he stretches out his back like a
bored house cat
and licks the cream from an inner thigh.
my unpolished toes curl
in revulsion.

chairs squeak;
someone coughs and adjusts the lights,
I blot my mouth and cheeks with an
embroidered handkerchief that’s initials
aren’t mine.
find my heels.
pull my blouse over my tender chest,
try not to look in any mirrors
on the way out
and notice the exit sign

shimmering,
more red
than usual.

“how we meet”

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