a demise of nothing

a demise of nothing by Casey Winchell

(arrival: san Francisco airport, los angeles flight 192)
i gracefully stumble down the plane's restricting aisle,
into the disordered airport, chin up.
face after face: emptiness.

there:
standing sort of refrained & withdrawn,
glowing even brighter than the last.
you whisk me into this virile embrace,
softly kissing my forehead, brushing my bangs aside,
(We ascend.)
our surroundings are whirling swirling twirling,
a single perfect white beam of light illuminates
the eyes that stare.
They want to touch us,
lick our electricity from their fingertips.
(We escape.)

(arrival: joe’s coffee, 2345 bleeker st.)
complacent in our Sunday best,
at that modest cafe where we always go.
your hand comfortably resting on my thigh,
we consume nothing but lattes.

sip after sip:
conversation continues to be forced,
"Us" & "We," it’s these that we delightfully avoid.
noncommittal responses & grey keep us smiling,
$12.32, you grab the bill, as well as my unpolished hand,
(We disappear.)
union square, apt. 127, San Francisco,
mahogany double doors conceal
two bodies tangled in milk white sheets.

(We explode.)

your cold eyes peer into mine:
throw my tosseled hair up,
& wrap myself in your polyester blazer;
the collar reeks of cigarettes, i wear it up.
(We disconnect.)

(departure: san franscisco airport, los angeles flight 201)
jettisoned by the rustle hustle bustle of coach,
quietly gripping my weathered suitcase
staring at my bare thigh.