Invasion of Something I Didn't Even Know I Had
invasion of something I didn't even know I had.his eyes are working
his mind is plottinghe doesn't ask.
he attempts to mask his intentions
with intellectual pretention and circumstance;
four glasses of vodka and orange juice helps soI don't question his glances
to my mid-region, to my breasts
I make feeble attempts to push away
the hand creeping up my shirt
turning from turquoise to dirtand black
with lack of daylight,
I notice his lack of tact.
taking positions on either side, he gives up trying
to bide his time or hide his plan
he would like me to lay out now and
I don't quite think I understandwhat he is thinking.
I am playing the defense, wondering how
conversation has come to this,
wondering how I can make some kind of sense
out of four am and too many cigarettes
too much alcohol and too few regretsupon his part, and too many on my own
I don't feel I'm old enough yet or grownand strangers on the front steps
are creeping up my back
I'm not sure how I feel about thiskind of attack
but nothing feels the way it should and I'm in too deep
I tell him I'm tired, I'd rather just sleep.
so here we go again, this time I win
but when defenses are down, will I know where I've been?
