Clockwork

 

 

In a swift integration our gazes traced along an arched path to meet on a level axis

 

 

Following the mechanisms of his primal urges, his fixation dipped downward to the area above my diaphragm, covered with a tight Beatles t-shirt

 

 

I was unsurprised yet unfailingly disappointed by the clockwork under which men operate

 

 

A mere glance between eyes to a perverted stare

 

 

Tic to tock 

 

 

As he approached me I began listing ways of letting him know I intended on leaving alone

 

 

"I have a boyfriend"

 

 

"I don't leave bars with strange men"

 

 

There he stood in front of me with words in his pocket he'd been waiting to pull out from the moment his eyes shifted below mine

 

 

"I like The Beatles too"