The tiny, transparent water droplets decorating your hair
spread through the air as you shake your head
and smile at me.
Your lips are mauled by your teeth.
“Why not? you consent.
“No reason that I must not,” and I clap like a child
unwilling to let go of his first toy.
The fan creaks above
louder than the bed
and the air in the room moves slowly –
slower than our breaths.
You finish and so do I
and the mutual satisfaction is churned out like fresh cream.
You puff the satisfaction away on a cigarette
and tie your hair in a knot
which was then falling on your bare shoulder.
And then you observe me smiling slyly
and plan to consent
if I ask again.
Art by Luise Andersen