the propped up screens
on threefold tray tables
flicker up plastic wall
like sconces, like candles
in a dim-lit dungeon,
and the candles contain portals:
to a deep green forest
in one of those numbered districts,
a beachfront with bikini-clad redheads,
a yellowed apartment in the united kingdom,
an animated suburban house covered
in winter snow.
the candles actually have
many other candles.
they are sets of millions flickering
in just the right way
to make one see something
more.
mine is showing a dirty, dirty porno.
he's got a hand around her neck, and
she's pulling him closer in two places
with both hands,
but only when he lets those hands free
to do what they want,
you might be worried
about everyone seeing our business,
watching it on my little portal,
but i'm not watching a screen,
i'm staring at the "no smoking" light,
because i have an imagination and time,
the only two things necessary
to make me want you, right now.