Spatialreid
02-17-2014, 09:14 PM
I can see her addiction, flashing in forkfuls from a synthetically laced container; you know the kind you find in coffee shops and cafes, clam-pack’s. The harvest of ice-cream cake frosts the pack with blotchy hues of white and grey.
She can wear her addition. She still hides behind her addition just as I hide behind mine.
“I told you so.” She says to the person behind the prefabricated barista stand.
I walk through, fresh from a five-day cruise in the Bahamas. My skin holds a golden lush that clings moisture to every pore. I sweat anytime the temperature rises above 47 degrees, when Chris Farley died his sweat functions were transferred into me by a voodoo doctor.
My perception is deep, I will call her out, and she will say I think I know, but never deny that I cannot.
“I told you so.” She says to her coworker behind the modular stand.
I notice their bet; the next person to walk through the doors will be pleasing to the eyes. I know these things, timing and eye contact of the two gives it away. What else can you do when you work with only one other person for hours on end? After months of cohabitation, randomness begins to form. Coworkers become family.
“I told you so.” She smiles to her friend behind the stand.
Warm in my mouth, how could I ever tell caffeinated from decaffeinated?
Sitting down I see her, grasping the pack from the cooler under the table. Grey smoke rises from the cresting lid, atoms of cream and sugar titillates and expands the air in her nose.
She is eating her addition in public, at work, behind the counter. Now I can appreciate that addiction. I accept her; we all do; that is America. A steaming clam-pack of atomized sugar.
She can eat your addiction.
Women who are heavier set are just as beautiful, if not more so than middle to thin builds. I can be shallow and cattle talk in cliches about public displays of obesity. How you hold that body is the beauty, your eyes are the beauty.
I can see her from the corner of my eyes, grasping the chemically corn-based fork though mists of atomized sugar, returning into her mouth.
She is watching me with her addition; she is eating me with her addition. She does not shame this; she publicly eats me as her addiction.
We are her addiction.
She can wear her addition. She still hides behind her addition just as I hide behind mine.
“I told you so.” She says to the person behind the prefabricated barista stand.
I walk through, fresh from a five-day cruise in the Bahamas. My skin holds a golden lush that clings moisture to every pore. I sweat anytime the temperature rises above 47 degrees, when Chris Farley died his sweat functions were transferred into me by a voodoo doctor.
My perception is deep, I will call her out, and she will say I think I know, but never deny that I cannot.
“I told you so.” She says to her coworker behind the modular stand.
I notice their bet; the next person to walk through the doors will be pleasing to the eyes. I know these things, timing and eye contact of the two gives it away. What else can you do when you work with only one other person for hours on end? After months of cohabitation, randomness begins to form. Coworkers become family.
“I told you so.” She smiles to her friend behind the stand.
Warm in my mouth, how could I ever tell caffeinated from decaffeinated?
Sitting down I see her, grasping the pack from the cooler under the table. Grey smoke rises from the cresting lid, atoms of cream and sugar titillates and expands the air in her nose.
She is eating her addition in public, at work, behind the counter. Now I can appreciate that addiction. I accept her; we all do; that is America. A steaming clam-pack of atomized sugar.
She can eat your addiction.
Women who are heavier set are just as beautiful, if not more so than middle to thin builds. I can be shallow and cattle talk in cliches about public displays of obesity. How you hold that body is the beauty, your eyes are the beauty.
I can see her from the corner of my eyes, grasping the chemically corn-based fork though mists of atomized sugar, returning into her mouth.
She is watching me with her addition; she is eating me with her addition. She does not shame this; she publicly eats me as her addiction.
We are her addiction.