i haven't any plans
i never do
yet my eyes trace the perimeter of the clock
tediously tick tick ticking along as if the future can wait.
my coworker comes in seven minutes late
and it's raining something awful outside
the storm chases after her as she opens the door.
the chirping of the bell is silenced by the downpour.
she apologizes and makes quick work of settling in.
i shrink myself when she reaches around me for something or other on the counter.
i don't mean to notice but
she smells ripe.
like floral perfume rich with marigold
and a freshly rolled blunt.
before i can even spell joseph
a wave of fatigue and disgust hits me.
it's not her fault she likens him so much it gives me a headache.
yet mine, again, for being so fragile.
if it wouldn't have been how iesha smelled
it would have been that one guy on campus who resembles
christopher too much.
or the leering strangers
dirty old fucking creeps
who leer and leer and pry
heat seeking and desperate to slip into whatever crack they can.
to violate.
to conquer.
to soil.
i hadn't any plans for this evening
but now i see myself aimless and stuck in front of the tracks again.
wondering if i could disappear into the blaring of the train.
or the flashing beams on highland.
