An Office Acquaintance Offers Advice
He said: "love
is a game
of both skill
I said: "why
turn these chemicals
into a game?"
He said: "you have
to compete, mate."
I said: nothing. I watched his tongue
moisten his underlip, a quick slither
of spittle between words to gloss
his good looks. He smelt of sharp spices
mixed with soft conditioned cotton.
When he cocked his head, his eyes
remained symmetrically blue, electrodes
pushed through my forehead; lobotomising
me. I watched his throat form thoughts -
a rhythmic rise and close, rise and close.
There were curled hairs caressing his larynx.
He said: something or other.
I was not listening.
(I think the punctuation is the least of this one's problems. Oh well ...)