Let us be impolite, order those buffalo wings that wink at us
from across the table,
be more spice than lemon chiffon, than static;
plot twist, they accept you completely, flaws and all.
So closed off, these individuals that step around, avoiding toes;
it’s said that approaching a woman is like arriving in a new city,
greens and purples melting into grey
in the serenity of eventide—a billion cups filled then dropped,
how can there be lands drenched in ennui,
in winter’s shroud, in stoicism, in absence of dialogue, in stupor?
I am simply passing through;
flicker of a bulb lighting the rearview mirror,
the wind carrying with it audacity of cobblestones, merlot lips
that are as fickle and uncertain as most people.
Let us be spontaneous, slip our toes in the lake when everyone
is watching— a woman is a repository of possibilities,
view her with the eye of your heart,
her breath is cinnamon fragrance;
intellect, apricot flavored, strumming a guitar in the distance,
the world a whisper
reprimanding her choices upon every other significant moment.
Let us be bold, scoot over the long aisle accentuating backdrops
and steal a kiss,
I am not interested in living in a place where women are subjugated;
vanta black misbalance
that’s been continuing on for generations,
only you can break the stereotype, the stereotype, the stereotyped
it’s as though comprehending what it means
to be smiling sideways—
stereotyped, steadfast type, with sentimental stripe, come now
let us be impolite.
Photo credits: Miss Pink Coconut Digital Illustration, Pinterest
Posted for Open Link LIVE “August Edition,” @dVerse Poets Pub