we mostly slept.
Lounged on the stripmall’s runway,
little concrete villa, all aluminum sides
and neon light. So pretty in the dark.
Thin-lipped weather in the plaza’s shallow avenues
with its low curbs and garbage cans of different sizes.
We all shook hands and grinned.
She invited me over, or I her; the details
are whitewashed with style. We hung around,
dim and cool like a bunker before the war.
Practiced taking our clothes off
in a silence crisp as a pressed suit.
Thumbed the buttons on the shirt
of the room around us. We took big gulps.
Like a trust fund, we became more luxurious
with each passing day. Certainty fanned out
like a search team. A general consensus wavered,
broke, re-collected itself. Things got boring
and one of us left. With apologies to those of you
waiting for the payoff, I guess this is it.