Focal Point

by anonymous


I don’t even remember
what color your eyes were
though I remember staring into them
at first
human connection and all that

I don’t recall what you wore
or how you cut your hair
even how tall or short you might be

But I remember your lip so vividly
your lower lip, specifically
it was very full
almost too full, even had you been female,
and reminded me of Mick Jagger
(I never did see that appeal)
even now, all these years between,
I can conjure that lip as if I created it
where it hung, a bit slack
and constantly gleaming
moist from your open mouthed
breathing and grunting
occasional swearing
it shook a bit as your body worked
into mine, sometimes a slight bob
others a marked jiggle
depending on how brutal
you felt like being at that moment

I stared at that lip
distracted every now and then
by that cavity forming
along the gumline of your middle incisor
and how it was really quite crooked
I guess you never wore braces
Now, really, shouldn’t you know that
about someone
before things get this far?

I resented that pendulous lip
with its Jell-o quake
and its saliva slick --
My mom always said mouth breathing
was a sign of being stupid –
because, any other day,
I would have put you in the “no” column
superficial, yes, but there are limits
to what degree of unattractiveness
a woman can tolerate
before she embraces superficiality
as the lesser evil
and that stupid fat lip of yours
qualified easily

But here I don’t seem to have a choice
just to lie here and stare at it
bob quiver quake rock and twitch
and study how you pull it down –
a reverse sneer, if you will –
when you get really excited
and I know the tremors will speed up
as I stare at that ugly flaccid lip
instead of your eyes
even as your hands reach up
(were you wearing rings?
I think so. One of them split
the skin on my temple
that’s how I got blood in my eye
which stings quite badly, you know)
twine around my neck
squeeze, like the belt choking my wrists

I see your lip quiver faster
and curve in a smile


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