15-Minute Wait for the Results
Skinny bird legs lying next to mine.
The one rubbing my thigh is tapping
up and down and up and down
because you are nervous about something.
Your finger, the one with the big red plastic ring,
is tapping on the peeling dark veneer rhythmically.
Your other hand is so clammy.
Like a turtleneck on a hot day,
like a wet turtleneck on a humid day.
The salmon-colored plastic sticks to my upper arm
in the small space between us on this love seat,
peeling away from my skin when I shift
with a sticky sound. Ouch.
There’s a rip, all jagged with
school bus-colored foam poking out.
Your nails are digging in,
as short as they are.
You are so afraid.
My nails are digging into your hand as well –
I can see the red-lined moons standing out plain as sight.
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