• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 04
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The air is tangled between them,
carries desert grains, tundra dust,
the speck of a meteor. Caught up
in this street it vacillates, ruffles the nap
of her fake fur collar then twists,
curves over his face, beneath his visor.

Unseen go-between, it passes each
to the other. To her, it offers the cold scent
of weaponry, rubberized armor, aftershave,
leather and cigarettes; to him, it’s last night’s
cooking, sweaty acrylic, hairspray, the deep
unhideable tang of an older woman.

The gap between them close enough
to be crossed by missiles of spittle
or expletives, but her lips are tight shut.
It’s her kohl-rimmed gaze
that is primed and loaded.