A Poem: Attic Space

Standing in the back room sniffing magazines
Vein’s jaw-like crease
As she looked me in the brain digging for a glint
Bedroom glares like heavy dream puzzles
Dances herself to sleep
Makes me laugh between my teeth.
Biting off the nib of the universe
A moon beam nod
It doesn’t hurt to ask
“I’m not that type of girl,” she said
then continued...
“You first.”