Depilatory

Perfect and polished
With your shiny legs and hair -
Arranged, cut bouquet.

Groomed and coddled, you
Can sit and stare, vague still-life,
No finger lifted,

No ugly sparking;
Even your crudeness makes no
stink. How nice to be

Availed of that, while
This caricature of you
Skins and claws their way

Up. Shaving the sides
Of some old pit. This stubble
Pulls against the blade.

Saturday Night, Oakland Park

Scraping the burnt garlic into the sink;
another dinner for the disposal.
This is not for you.

Neither is the sweet oil.

(Admonished; ground and gone.)

A stubble of charcoal from the filter rolled
on the skin of your knee: This is yours, as is
the red, tight crescent remaining in your glass

Someone's tires grab close, braking on that right turn,
And screech for your street
Like a cheerleader.