Four Poems – Jeanann Verlee

The Summer of Supplemental Income

The foyer is ordinary Manhattan. Stark white everything, 
	with chrome. Leather couch, ash-grey. 

He appears from a back room, skin potent with sandalwood 
	& labia. A loose kimono drapes him, barefoot.

Faux fur rug. MacBook squared to the edge of something 
	minimalist & made of nickel. Flowerless, arid.

His hair sinks below his shoulders; wrists thin as rake 
	handles. He is a jackhammer of good teeth. 

I spot a girl exiting, twitchy as a runaway. She escapes beneath 
	a mask of hair & hoodie. Scrambling. Like prey.

He’s already nicknamed me Gingergirl, Cutie Pie, Tiny-little-thing. 
	Studies my feet. Measures chest, waist, hip.