When the skin doesn’t fit

patting down my dress i did my best to glide
smile greased like chicken wings hovering
in your shadow as you curled a fist and knocked

beyond blonde pine fences laughter sizzled
faceless like hot-plate beef
ice clinked to the click of camera shutters
shuddering to witness the gold bangled
wrist of another sophist’s photo

carrying the uncooked slabs of some-label meat
i felt like a plastic bag casually toted and filled
with morsels other backyard people
were primed to eat

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