Meeting the Prince of Mischief
One fixed orbit around the gutter,
he muttered, because his mind
headed nowhere good.
Svelte as truffles the man walked in,
a swagger and dip to his willowy build,
(all their pieces squandered on goat cheese,
a pinch of salt over the shoulder
while his ghosts fetch their artillery).
They were at a dinner,
watched by the Cyclops eyes
of blinking cameras. Voyeur
like the camera, he suckled
quahogs from shells and nibbled
non-pareil, the corner bird.
His hands smelled like seaweed.
His lips tingled with after burn of cloves.
The room was filling with water,
sound garbled in his ears, and when
at last he made his way to the man,
watching the broad shoulders in dark grey,
he curled his hands in his pockets
and his breath gusted through his lips.
The figure drifted through his eyes,
like the bilious curtains in the rising flood
could keep him hidden. There was an ego-threat
involved in spinning his words, twirling
his bad ideas in public but he’d tie
those fragile wrists to a generator
and abscond with his dignity,
and whatever else he could take.
Twice the fool and once the dunderhead,
even the rodomontade of the rich and absurd
could hardly shield his wantonness,
upwind of an unwitting prey as though
he could expect to succeed. The mercurial
laugh, the grey eyes and personality to match,
and all the secrets this man still couldn’t
extract. Maybe it wasn’t about winning
anymore, just the unquenchable heat
in his blood and the feeling that he
had been offered something impossible,
miraculous, only to watch it snatched away,
dark gaze and a sparkler laugh, elusive
to the touch as smoke on the water,
the flooded ballroom and no one else
seemed to notice as it overtook him
and he could scarcely breach air
through a cowbird beak, small tongue
held open for absent sustenance.
Nothing had changed. He drew a breath,
try again, introduce himself, and silver eyes
fall on him, through him, pull towards
a gaping chasm he pretends not to notice
beneath his feet as the man’s hand
caresses his in a hand shake, simple greeting
and socialization is the point of parties
so it astounds him, the breadth of difficulty
as those perfect narrow lips sculpt around the words,
“Please allow me to introduce myself…”
[NaPoWriMo Day 20, Prompt: use words from a list]