Paul believed he gave himself away.
He sold himself to the highest bidder.
It felt good.
His body reacted without thought.
He thought if only he opened a window.
He thought if only he spoke.
A typed sentence of reason
rotated swiftly like a jump rope
like a string in theory
creating a sphere.
Paul had no memory of the evening.
He after-tasted words in his mouth.
Like shoe leather on his tongue.
Like dirt and sea making a salt marsh.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
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