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

Opening Line