i remember
sitting in the church balcony
with allison
how we would pass
the time

methodist church was only a
59-minute hour
beat the baptists to the restaurant
and yet, the time would drag
like fifth period social studies
after lunch
and too many yeast rolls

we would rub each other’s
formula for cold chills:
x marks the spot
dot dot dot
spiders running up your back
spiders running down your back
tight squeeze
cool breeze

the intimacy & ease of girls
the exchange of touching
was a bull market

these days, i pay indian women
to do my brows
every few months,
save up until i just can’t stand it
i lay back in the chair
thrilled and tortured
by the pinch
then the delicious release

as they lay their hands
just the little finger and
fleshy backside of the palms
across my cheek
to steady their works
peaking in hindi

across my closed eyelids
sometimes, i’m sure,about me
this one’s eyebrows are so grey
and curly
for a girl of her age
i hope she gives a good tip
but that’s just a fantasy
to be included in their world
at all
i hold my breath
and slowly
let it out against wrists
as i can
wondering if it ever
gives a cold chill