by Coral Lee
I. A BOTCHED MISSION
My two friends and I are talking to two identical boys at a party:
Both in circle frame glasses,
Both six feet tall,
The one I have come with
Is outside, easing his Chantix-induced nausea with a cigarette.
And as I am scheming how I will
Woo Boy A or Boy B–
(There’s something about sneaking out the back door,
A silent cue,
Cuts and scrapes on my shins)–
I have failed to engage in conversation,
And one of my friends is now macking on boy A.
Boy B has slipped through the back door without me.
On the other side of the front door
Is the one I have come with,
Smoking a cigarette.
He asks if I am ready–
I snake my arm through his.
We walk home in tandem;
the freezing air
slices at my shins.
II. I AM SORRY ABOUT THE ROSES
I have accidentally killed the dozen of roses you have given me.
The dozen you had given your mother is still alive and well–
This, you remind me gently.
Now feeling particularly brutish,
I break into tears,
and another argument ensues.
It only ends when you inform me
that my expectations are impossibly high.
We are too drunk to effectively argue for x or y without getting confused
we instead fall to the ground
and silently fold fortune-tellers.
Mine: “Try again”
Yours: “You will get clawed by a bird”
III. I AM SCARED THAT THE MAGIC IS GONE
We haven’t had sex for 2 weeks.
(2.5 weeks, really.)
And so, the day before I leave, I look at you and half-jokingly ask if we are never going to have sex again.
You respond with a hand down my pants,
fucking you, just like that
(Circling my hips because isn’t that supposed to be spicy?)
You get up; root around for your boxers, and with a sigh and snap of the waistband say:
“That’s why I don’t like having sex when I’m drunk.”
I am still naked.
Venus figure that I am,
I look for split-ends disinterestedly.
Do you remember when we used to lay here, unclothed,
thinking of the essentials were we to be stranded on a island,
counting each other’s freckles
until your alarm rang?
IV. UNFORTUNATE SITUATIONS TO WAKE UP IN
1. 32,000 feet above the air.
2. In a bed, alone.
3. In a bed, not alone.
[Featured]Digital Art / Photography Image Credit: it puts a special burn on sunsets by J.A. Spahr-Summers.
©Copyright 2015, J.A. Spahr-Summers
Snapping Twig – Spring – 2015
Vol: Feb 2015 thru Apr 2015