He spoke about
volatility
at the meeting last week
lights overbright
piercing my eyes
squinting, tried to snag some
meaning
a patchwork of playdough thoughts
molded and
molding
stale coffee, split ends
musty when I raised my hand to
ruffle the strands
spoke about a daughter
spoke about Sundays
spoke about the way the wind can lift
and shake
the hair
at the nape
of a neck
or was that me?
I’m a daughter
blinking dumbly
into blaring
glaring
fluorescent
silence
and rambling about
tangerines
the softness of a thumbnail
piercing skin
sunset release
the softness of a thumb
brushing a cheek

ingénue
into fist
cut with a cough
at me
a blackjack smirk of shears
smize, slice
and then
release