Gestures

A fair amount of time

was liquefied

like a milkshake's center--

in the mysteries of the gesture--

a frowning lip or a bent hip,

not these obvious ones.

The query was at the heart

of where there exists none...

Still, the air was electric,

evil heart-beats still grew steadily

loose hair was a pulse--

a blink a negative response

A smile--to date

cross-legged--you lose the race

ignored--there might be a chance

to talk--to embrace

to shake hands was like strands of

reality disappearing one by one

and to voice what you think

was to imprint desire into memory.