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I know what a woman looks like;
I share the very same features.

But she is eccentric.

She tempts me to leave nothing to the imagination.
I resist the temptation
and begin to imagine
being alone with her in an empty room
of a public place
-like the photocopying room
with the door that doesn’t lock properly.

We are facing each other with our bodies speaking
different languages,
voices combusting verbatim images.
Instantly, I feel her forefinger frisk my cheekbone gently
then slip from the corner of my lower lip
to the middle of my chin..
And we begin.

Kisses come fast and forceful enough to stitch a seam.
My left hand squeezes her breast like I’m about to throw a water-balloon.
We take off our wet clothes.
We take turns tasting each others nipples.
We take in air that was never exhaled.
Fresh.

I’m uncomfortably on top of the photocopier machine
when I realize that there’s a vortex between my thighs
and possibly not enough legal-sized photocopy paper to soak it up.

I’m exposed to weapons only a woman could control.
My eyelids pinch
I’m blinded by confetti
My mouth is cramped in the shape of a capital-letter “U”.

A vulgar, hot sigh escapes as
I come
to the conclusion that it was just
my imagination.

Britta B.

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