Blusher

Blusher

 

Today she’s an early riser

creamy vest top, cleavage spilling and down

as she stretches to tie trainers

with an uninvited yawn:

‘How’s your sleep?’ Not good

and she doesn’t want the gym

but off we troop, put a few kilometers in

by order of the smartwatch –

 

it congratulates us, patronizing,

as though we achieved something

unparalleled and unique -

rather like Norton, thieving a payment

from your account by subscription

then informing you of your unmatched success.

On the way back, out of breath

she says: ‘Last night, I finished the Cadbury’.

 

So for insomnia’s sake, I stride to Palengke,

counting steps and she protests:

‘You only want some more than me!’

while hooking a bra, pulling on her dress -

which is true, and something sneaky.

 

On entering, MJ, tightly attired, marks me,

conjures herself sultry 

from between shelves,

brings what is required; says: ‘Where Ate?’

placing goods, nothing rushed

then marks my card with a smile and blush.