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.
