Ocean Kiss

byKrenna Smart©

It's 2:00 a.m.
on a sultry summer night

I open the freezer
pour a shot of liquid ice
which caresses my throat
on the way down
like a devil's kiss

My flat's a steam bath

Even the cats are sweating
Their sand-paper tongues loll
through half open mouths

Naked, I lean against the cranky
impotent air conditioner
and take another pull from my glass

Icy fire shoots out
from the base of my neck
through my groin
down to the tips of my toes

Igniting me

As I lean into the freezer
beads of sweat roll from my brow
on to the stinky
man made glacier

I can almost hear the drops
sizzle as they land

What time is it?

It's so fucking humid
my watch face has steamed up
Time to roll, I think

Drenched and beaten
I drop my limpid clothing
item by item
and slink upstairs
to my furnace like bedroom


God it's hot
in this slimy city sarcophagus
of an apartment

My bag's been packed since dawn
when I slithered out from between
tortured sweaty sheets

and headed off to my
prison-like office

Throughout the day
the frosty flask in my freezer
called out to me

Soon, I promised
as I tap, tap, tapped out
pointless patter
for my fat-assed
employer to disembowel
and reassemble
with a self-satisfied grin

"See how easy it is?" he says
as he signs his name to
evisverated drivel

"Easy for you" I mutter
retreating to my
coffin like cubby hole

The clock hands crawls towards 6:00 p.m.

Anxiously, I listen
for the first clang of the bell
in the nearby tower

Sweet, blessed sound of my Savior

"Ding dong
Day is over
run for cover
of the bottle
that's become your lover"

sings in my mind
to the sound of the chime

I'm out of there
like greased lightening or
shit through a goose

"Don't forget the blah, blah, blah...
My boss calls to my back
not seeing the finger I throw him
as I take the stairs
two at a time
down to the subway
the short walk
to my roasting flat
and the blessed icy bottle in the freezer

The first sip chills the mind
cools the body and temper

A pin hole in an over-inflated balloon

Bottled up feelings
and bruised ego leak out

The boil of anger
which was ready to burst
like a hyper-active volcano
or an infected zit on
an unhappy teenager's face
subsides into a
dull red pustule

I don't pick at it
I set it aside for Monday morning

It's a beach weekend my mind sings

I'm in high gear
My engine's running smoothe
Lubricated with white lightening
straight from the frosty bottle

I don my beach clothes
and fill the cats' bowl
with enough crunchies
to get them through a week

Just in case the trip to the beach
ends in catastrophe
and the ocean takes me

Its grey misty fingers
Pulling me in
deeper and deeper
until I become one with the
green, salty swell

Ahh, sweet bliss
the ocean kiss

The last thing I remember
and the first thing I ever knew

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