Late night Midtown Manhattan in one of those sticky places with the sticky tables and the sticky food
we have ended up here fortuitously, yeah, I said fortuitously…
accidentally-slash-casually like the tourists that are here, that don't know no better
and you can find this same sticky plastic over amplified grub
across each fat American city
it is middle America's fancy restaurant
where you go for birthday bells and a song with sparklers in your pudding
happy hour with your tacky drink and floppy nachos
and fat fat fatness sitting on vinyl benches and shredded lettuce,
iceberg...which I revile
that tastes like cheapness
at least in the middle of america fancy food havens
-quotation marks in the air-
like this one, the lighting isn't as bad
but in middle of Manhattan the middle of the road hooterviles and maplebees
and all of those that thank beak-less chicken that it is friday,
bad lighting is unfortunate…
a warehouse turned into a family friendly tourist hive with the bedbug hotel right next door
which has that same lighting from decades ago handed down from caged mill workers
a lighting that makes a buzzing sound
and illuminates the zombie staff in a green or yellow glow
it makes a sound under the football TV…
a sound that is under
the sounds of some kind of american music which is all over
a music that is meant to cover the sound of tourist grumblings and children yelping
and that light it keeps the tourist kids awake as they yawn and spill their drinks
with their sticky fingers onto the sticky table and it flows onto the sticky floor
but this doesn't bother you…
YOU only want to spend some time with me, and I want to spend some time with YOU...
WHEREVER.
because we pass like ships in the night too many times
and usually during the day.
So, like Romans we sit, waiting for my tacky cherry limeade while my tired eyes look at you
and admire your
apple crunch smile,
that smile...
with those lips of yours…
I smile at
those eyes of yours...
your two eyes,
and that nose of yours
Yes, I'm talking about THAT FACE!
Your lovely face,
that melts away the fatness of the joint
you unstick the stickiness, and my innards rejoice…
icky sticky washes away when I look at your face
your laugh and your voice soften the sounds and
your mood lightens the light
Those plastic sesame teriyaki sticky chicken fingers were only as delicious
because of your presence
I point out that you've got sticky sesame teriyaki chicken finger juice on your wrist
and I wipe it away gently with my napkin.
NOW...
now...there is only the sticky situation of my Desire for you
that is stayed by your timid wish…
and your cautious affection for me.
I'm Stuck! Stuck! Stuck!
and IT only grows despite our agreement to let it be what it is
so it has become what it has become
and it grows in-spite of the cheap tasting lettuce that you seem to enjoy.
