Noor Naga

The chair I chose for me and the chair I chose for you were at a table behind a pillar where I hoped we would not         be seen or heard or smelled or tasted by the women who no doubt were         licking their spoons slipping spoons into the sides of their tights toothpicks in their hair         you came late with a light         step your head a balloon on string          bobbing statically somewhere near the ceiling         your legs listless thin trailing the floor         some men ooze sex and it has nothing to do with their bodies          you were not pretty do not think you are pretty          middle-aged man with no hair with cuticles gnawed down to the rat beds         but when you shook snow off your coat using your shoulders alone when you yes         then every woman in the room stopped rubbing salt         between her fingers remembered her own desire moved the stolen spoon in her tights front and center every woman understood why the girl in floral headscarf had come early and tried out all the chairs         why she stood up when she saw you sat         down stood up and sat down stood up started to cry         you said me too        kissed the pearled hood of each eye in turn before you laughed and laughing snorted so she would know you had once been a boy.