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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