Carpe Diane

Already geared up
for subway struggle
and nine hours
of desktop draught,
halfway out the door.
'bcoz I gotta, u know'

Soft socked steps
and a wordless growl
of morning horny
disappointment,
magnetic current
tugging my gaze back.

Behind fake Ray-Bans
'2 bux @ the gas station'
and absence of make-up,
just as much a mask
as the full set
of face paint,

she poses
as if
she doesn't

and stares down
from up the stairs

with 8 in the morning
'anything goes' hair
in a weary web
of 'I can't care'.

Leans out leisurely,
straining the form
of what was
all mine
yesterday
against an XL
'built by beer'
t-shirt.

If beer did that
I'll build
a bloody altar.

Because cotton slides
against '2 good 2 b'
tanned thighs,
she leans some more
and bites the lower lip
of a sultry smile.

Then raise her
cheap black visor
in invite...

I drop it all
and take the steps
two by two.

I might be weak
but what the hell,
wouldn't you?