Blue Shadows

My face has turned blue. I must be under
Stress. The clock is singing slowly, without
Any pleasure at all. My rings are laid out
On some red velvet. I should wash my hands.
The evening is a dumpster of niceties.

This is the best evening ever. My date is
The coat rack. We dance to blues music. You
Could have seen our silhouettes as you passed
Our house, Oliver. Oliver, don’t you pass our house
Anymore?

The man is irrelevant. It’s the clock I like. I like
The coat rack. Our silhouettes, blue with pleasure.
Pleasure. I don’t understand. Oliver once said: Pleasure
Is the space between two of your fingers or toes. Oliver
Is a silhouette too and I am the coat rack.