Quarry
It was the first time
and it wouldn’t be the last
I hesitate
look back and consider
Should I return your volley
pretend to be flattered
blush and smile
act out the age old dance
a white ring untouched by sun on your left hand
stick figure art and grocery lists trail from your case
breakfast eggs a tell-tale blot
on your well-pressed shirt
You scan the room as I look away
senses keen for tick of biological clocks raging pheromones
maybe if you find
another she will want to play
