Speed Dating

The woman lifts her hand to her heart,
patting its hard work.
She loads her ashtray in a slow burn of double meaning: souvenir, absence.
Her mouth open in a loose-fitting curl
pinned all night.
What is her mouth open for?
What is about to enter her.
She is receiving; she is a receipt.
She is itemized and rain checked.
She is standing in line, marketing her brand. No-nonsense.

A shining ruby mouth is an appeal, an advertisement,
a question.
Diamonds revolving the finger a promise, an arrangement, a hurry.

She has only her mouth strained open, stained a bleeding color.

Her hands clasped in her lap like a store-bought bow.
Her mouth chewing on its straitjacket
as she pulls out wishes like bunnies: soulmate, teacups, suburbs. Her body stands guard against break-in; her laugh the alarm, 3AM blaring. Nobody falls asleep
to the sound.