Small wonder I recoil
at my cross-shaped reflection,
hanging ornamentally on the flexing
chest of an excited woman,
grimly staring back as if
to warn of some future.
Small talk was mustered
from what little energy
peer pressure could
cajole from my tired joints -
imagine weighty despair
embellished with airy hand gestures.
Small world made even smaller -
measurable in southernly accented words
or brandished highlights
of not-quite-bleach blonde -
and swollen by spacious thoughts
bouncing off of vanity dressed in flesh.
My ballooning existence -
empty and stretched thin -
crept closer to shattering,
with the stab of each syllable.
