She tells me her life story
as I sip beer and eat German sausage,
sipping her wine with each new tale,
though she barely makes a den
t in the food she's ordered,
her lips moist from wine,
though not too
closely pressed
even when she gets to
the sad and tragic
parts
where she grew up and how hard she had
it, protecting her brother from harm,
loving him yet uncomfortable
when
he shoots pictures of her,
He so used to seducing
The other models he shoots,
He can’t help trying to seduce her
When capturing her soul
In his camera
Each tale, another sip,
the drip of wine of her lips
diverting my attention away
from her eyes,
where I’m lost even
with a glance.
I sip my beer and listen,
watch as her limbs come undone,
not inebriated, just relaxed,
Far from the stiff professional
Manniquin she plays in the office
, like melting wax,
dripping slowly
from the heat of memory
and sips of wine.
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