Meiosis by MK Chavez

This is the second date. I’m thinking
of the dictionary and fellatio
and the fact that not much further down
on the page you find the word fellow
and this doesn’t mean much, but fellatio
and fellow don’t always go together.

I study his face, looking for some sort
of Geronimo in him, if only
he was a constellation of man,
someone to be counted on to do
something, but I’ve put him under
the microscope—

This is quite the expedition
we’re swimming here, small talk like
air bubbles. The walls of the restaurant
are periwinkle. I want to lean over
and say please don’t speak, I just so,
want a chance to undulate.

This date feels like a cell. I become
a spore, could sink. The intervals
of my breath float, midair, like pigeons,
the birds that people hate. He laughs
says things like “pussy
cat.”

Note: Interesting. He took to cats
after he watched one kill a bird, its bloody
muzzle is called charming. I pretend to laugh
sounds like a cackle, “Isn’t it funny,” he says.
He named the kitty “Killer.”

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