STOP SWEATING ❋ Spoiler

There is always the question about pleasure
being
If you know the reason why,
the underlying,
subconscious,
the Dirty and
Inhumanly Disgusting
Bare Naked Truth
of the pleasure that you feel
when you do the things you like to do—

When you act free,
so free as if beyond dignity,
dancing in the rhythms of you and only you

sitting by the open window in the early fall breeze
staring at the street lights shining red and green and
yellow on the warm wet streets as
Marinoni sweat still drips behind the ears,
rests on your brow,
hot and moist in your pits,
oozing from your back pores, garnishing your body—

You wonder
if you sit there to cool off
or to Stop Sweating,
stop being an Embarrassment to Society,
to Look Presentable perhaps—
Feel Powerful and Never Insecure,
and maybe then start to think
of inviting over the Hot Girl that
you have been Staring at and
who Stared Back
Last Night

And then you dance madly again,
dance until you see your reflection in the window
with the Red Green and Yellow
shaping your Hesitation
and you stop
and you lower your arms,
you realize you’re Sweating again
and it’s Late
and you Haven’t Eaten