Inside-Jokes

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Max felt claustrophobic
A string of time whirling
around his body
Tightening
around calves
Cutting through cotton of shirt
Splitting fuzz on skin that Ava
used to kiss
in her anti-depressant
delights

It was over
they knew
tighter, still
they cuddled
quailing together
from that loneliness that cools
the empty edges
of every
bed

Space for clean
unattached starts
is shrinking, he thought
Why a world wide web they’ve spawned
around a world so small?
He hoped she could never
find him again

Why do I keep missing people
who are not worth missing?
coiling around his wrists
Ava whispered like a snake
She strummed some distant
intellectual
chord in his mind
Pressing
on her knees unfaithful finger
prints, Max
wondered
Could Capitalism be
such a roaring hit
if emotions understood
the virtue of restraint?

In the timid
folds of her braid
he kept humming
his long good
byes
Beyond their windows a thinning
darkness
wafted so loosely
Only infra
red strip
tease ads
blinked
with fading lament

When three last words
smashed
through one very
unique
structure of intimacy . . . oh how they split and scattered!

How they split and scattered
all those deliciously convoluted
inside-jokes
the ones only two
people in the world
knew to laugh at.