and the sub-floor, too a plane of concrete glossy with a fresh coat of sealant fine dust and flakes of sawdust settled in an array of ant-sized dunes, piled high along the edges of things.
They come in here to smoke, brooms and pans and keys clipped to belt loops 2-ways turned down to almost-mute identical polos and faded blue work pants shuffling in the cool shadows of this unlit room
Broken by a bleached-golden plank of summer sun, charcoal tones of the incomplete room bisected by this swath of yellow the two criss-cross at varying intervals,
paths pulling together in lazy increments metered by exhales/inhales, drawing the pair together for a nervous kiss,
their lips meeting where the dust-glinted light meets the ensanguined dark, where cigarettes’ cherries touch briefly and spark,
as the couple’s hands first come together, interlace, and then part.
