Bobby Pin

Haven’t kissed without context
for at least 3,000 miles

each pull of tooth to lip
tongue to tooth
is drawn
on overhead projector plastic
laid in a stack
unsuspecting in its file cabinet

one kiss is every kiss
until my body is too loud to keep going

She pulls out my bobby pin
with a ballet slipper finger
and sets it horizontally on the heater
perched on the verge
of complete estrangement

I am sitting on the verge
of falling alongside it

so kiss me
so I can pretend that I am
everywhere that I was
everywhere but here

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