hel·low (ˈhelō/) exclamation. A salutation embodying the vibrant energy found in the color yellow.

05 September 2013

Your Tube Socks Are Tacky

She’s standing by the window
In nothing but her tube socks and lingerie
Its price tag on the floor
Hair pulled up in a messy bun
Arms crossed over her naked breasts
With her glasses and perfect vision
Bare back to me and the stack of books
She never reads and talks so highly of
Disheveled sheets of her bed about my legs
Saying how the world is hers
So many places to explore
Things to experience
People to talk to
Photos to be taken with her expensive camera
Whose woven strap matches her purse
That’s lying on the floor beside the vintage record player
The scented candles and orange spice tea on the window sill
Mix together and collide in my nostrils
As she talks about the Louvre in her acquired French accent
How her professor knows how to wear a scarf
How this artistic life is fueled by hardships and broken hearts
When I opened doors for her
And paid for her Italian gelato
My selfish misogyny bound her like chains
And she needed to break free
To travel
Always to travel
Her pain and virgin sexual odysseys
Would drive the paint into her empty canvasses
Scattered about the room
She would write poetry in her favorite coffee shops
Fueled by the loss of love
Nine months long
Enlightened by her effeminate freedom
She breathed in the colliding scents and closed her eyes
Imagining the possibilities
As I slipped out of the bed and into my pants
Tipping over the king on the chessboard she rearranged
But never played
Its mahogany crown bouncing off the floor
She’s staring at me, forcing tears to her eyes
And I leave her with the only words
She will fabricate no meaning from

Your tube socks are tacky.

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