Hiss

Hiss.

Puffy coat. Hands tucked in pockets. Snot down the curl of lip.

Hiss.

You gave him two eyes. No smile, nothing. Two eyes, one second. Passing on the street.

Hiss. Hey baby.

He turns around. Follows. Puckers his lips. Makes kissing sounds. Pushes his tongue behind his teeth and pulls it across the roof of his mouth. Serpent.

Hey baby. Hey baby.

He yells at you. He slithers. Slithering. Hand circles the pocketknife. You unlock the safety in the warmth of your coat.

Baby. Hiss. Baby.

No. Your lips scream. You’re surprised at this voice. It bounces off brick buildings, dances with the snow. The streetlight turns red. A flake hits your bottom lip. You taste it. You turn. Two eyes, two eyes.

NO. You rejoice at these words. Let them melt with the snow, into ice. Cover the sidewalks like a stream. No, no, no.

The man turns. Smirks. Spits bitch.

The snow disappears before it meets the ground, gathers in the sky.

Two blocks later a trucks slows next to you. Window rolls, rolls, rolls. Hat-covered head out the space. Country music on the radio. He wants to buy you. He’s bought other girls on this street. He can’t differentiate. You’re all girls, bodies over ice. Ready to fall.

Fuck off. These words feel like you created them. Like no one’s ever said them before. They burn through your lips. They become buttons. Yes. No. Fuck off. Push, push, push. Speak, speak, speak. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

The truck pulls away, cigarette smoke circles into snow sky. The brake lights scream red at another curved body. You can’t hear her buttons. You can’t see her face. Her cheeks move across her shoulders like a dusting. Her golden hair grins. No one’s fallen yet. The truck pulls away. The snow puts the hill in a fog. You can only see so far.