going up

My fly is unzipped.

Just like the Vietnamese philosopher
that cornered me in elevator conversation said:
I’m trapped in an eight-year old’s body.
Standing before the N section on the 4th floor,
he waited for my reflection to speak something profound
of his Microsoft-painted Vermeer.
It was a confused copy, screaming Fauve,
Woman-In-A-Hat’s sister,
a sorry separation.

I backed away and shuffled books on the shelves,
faking interest in titles on technology
and gender.

—From prose, drafted 01/24/11

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s