If I exchange 8 dollars for a ticket
the man with a slim mustache
will let me see big screen tits
and curlicue pubic hair above
a nudist colonist’s penis.
How
subtle our snickers when what we want
is behind glass, is the same
as how we pet a cat at 3 a.m.,
drunk, on a stranger’s couch.
At first, we’re playful and trading
High School dance moves. One
ratchets the sprinkler, the other drops
soup cans into the shopping cart.
Then muscles contract, relaxing
to the fingers’ elastic petting.
Guards watch for fingers close
to screens and projectors. Feel
with eyes, one says to a woman
I’m standing next to. She giggles
so I giggle. Then, I say
They dress in black
in case a funeral reception
has good food. Someone shushes us.
She taps my knuckle
and says, It’s the only place
one can really taste the flavors.
