I unzip my hoodie
slowly
letting my finger trail
from the end of the zipper
to the front of my pants.
let my index lull
somewhere near the heat.
(some guy puts down his phone)

with the other hand,
I remove my hat
carefully,
wipe a stray hair from
my shaded eye.
reapply my chapstick,
then lipgloss,
then fire engine red
and I stick a finger
(some guy removes his earbuds)
very slowly in my mouth and pout
before a loud
SUCK
pops at them
and then
slowly pull it out.
check for the ring around my finger.
(there’s one shifting in his skin)

cross one ankle over the other
delicately before lifting
a pruned eyebrow in the direction of the one
that resembles you the most,
smirk at my reflection in the window.
(a clearing of the throat in the distance)
drunk on memory and the
cessation of feelings about it,
let one side of my hood fall
revealing a velvet bra strap,
a bone white shoulder
crowning through a sheer black sweater
like the heavily saluted moon-break
on a murky night in late December,
i’m worshipped for an instant.
(all mouths open now)

wrap my thrumming fingers around the pole
assuredly and
(the way i never was with you)
squeeze,
(they’re all watching now),
bite my lip and rub the palm first down,
then up
but with stifled fervor
(do you like that?)
like it’s alive and pumping and
I want to enjoy
the ride for awhile before I
(retreat inside my gut)
grit my teeth and grab it harder and
go a little faster,
little harder, little wilder,
little wolf girl caught in moons,
chafes my life lines
the one where the money should be,
or the love or the way I was
before     I keep trying and
(some guy is walking over)
I can’t even
(do you even hear me?)
I can’t stop
(this train is full of breathing)
and I can’t even
(“Miss?”)
(finish them)
finish them.

I can’t even finish
them completely.

“the aviary”