cool rocking daddy.
supplies
jiggly arms woman just took scissors off bearded guy’s desk
and said to me, “don’t let him know i took these.”
i fill in the blank with a “i didn’t see anything.”
i think she’s joking– don’t we always, at first?
then, i begin to notice.
nobody’s joking about this.
it’s like there’s a war going on here,
and the lock on the supply cabinet is as useless as custard.
i scour his desk like a conquistador.
it’s so brutal.
everything is clearly labeled:
“property of bearded guy. DO NOT REMOVE.”
do not remove. who’d have the courage to?
she walks by again. her arms rumble.
i won’t tell a soul.
the signal
i’m touching my chin.
that’s supposed to be the signal.
it means help.
it means get me out of here.
it means i’m stuck in a bad conversation.
that i’m being tortured.
i’m still tapping,
which means you can’t see me
from wherever you are.
we’re a pyramid of cheerleaders,
ten people crammed into a phone booth,
and now you decide to take a break?
i touch furiously. she kisses me.
the signal’s been compromised.
abort.
abort.
ab–
bears
we’ve had our share of disruptions,
our share of vandals.
now there’s a bear loose in the neighborhood.
we say loose because
we do not know
what it is to be free.