malaise jane Wood and brick—warm atmosphere Red designs on the ceiling Fingers punch black and white; Two of mine wrapped around the neck Of a beer. Discomfort: My boots are too big, My shirt is too black. Conversations with strangers Who are friends because we ended up At the same bar; Uneasiness and exhilaration Knowing you are watching. The walk home: Awkward attempts to fill the silence Turn me on; Hear my heavy boots hit the pavement —Is it too loud? Does he notice? The ultimate decision —Here? Around the corner? When suddenly, To fill the dead air, He clocks the opportunity And claims it isn’t fair. And I ascend, Tired, angry at assumption And lack of understanding. 041024 what's it to you? who go blather from