She was pretty after all

all day long she
was better than thou

this morning she
looked me
up and down
--all t-shirt and ripped sports jacket of me--
and made a sour smile

like phony gold wasting on an old idol

“Are you the temp for the stickering project?”

and of course she’s decked out
in designer earth tones
and dolled to
perfection
--all dyed hair and unblemished makeup of her--

so we worked all day
and finished a hour early
while she was at her desk
biding time

‘um…yes, when you’re done you can park the boxes over there between my desk and the cubicle wall…”

um…yes
and she never made eyes

not all day

in the end
her makeup and hair were
pristine
and free of the skin and hair
pocked and browned
as
the old dry
earth

we packed up
loaded the shit
crammed boxes snug
between the wall and the desk

and were just about to make out like bandits

when she glances up

from her desk almighty

poised

a queen

thin

round breasted

to the tee

she looks me dead in the eye socket

she speaks with gracious authority
but I cannot hear

all I can notice now is her lazy eye

I don’t know if to laugh or cry
commit love or suicide
face facts or pride

but all these cancel

and leave me without heart or mind

just where I like to be