10th Floor

Must crunch
these numbers

Mr.Suit needs
the bottom line
by 8am

How much did we make
this year Mr.Suit?

Mmmm..how much can we hide?

White noise thunderous
Fingers flying
Mind reeling
to the stream of tape
snaking the desk before me

the clock watches me soar
into foggy sums

These glasses
These damn class lending glasses

My hands remove the nuisance
as I find my reflection
in the window

The city lights flickering
as a million fallen stars

Count them
Count them with your finger tip
finger printing the pane
Snuffing each night light
as if I could draw the eminence

while the other hand
reaches
to unpin tight hair

Reclining from the desk
I begin to imagine
the heat spent
among the lovers
of a million candles

legs become divided
propped up
skirt begins to climb
above white shapes
heels get tossed
to the floor

Bare feet now resting
against the flames
cool burn
hot
tickling at first
then magically
invading my wet
with light tricks
and digits

Counting, yes counting
How many circles
does it take
to flood Hades
upon the 10th floor

Multiply that
times 10 sins
and I’ll be one hundred
times closer
to heaven

calculating
estimating
rounding off
then finally
gladly
taking a loss
of inhibition
processing
the data
moving through
my body’s
wet projections
chart climbing
summations
accruing
sensations
doubling the rate
in a ticker tape parade
closing
breathlessly
into a wealth
of priceless
crashing

Handing him
a most presentable figure
With a smile

Bet you can’t wait to lay that
on the boardroom table
Mr. Suit

You can always count on me