New Poetry

I judge each of you first
not by your cover
but your spine; that
sliver of design decides
your future with me. Names matter,
sad to say, and Marie, Eleanor,
Janine will more likely get
a ride home than Ed, James,

I touch you all indiscriminately, hot fingers
on cool new plastic jackets. It
is your slenderness I love best,
dime-thin bodies
with such lovely eyes.

photograph by flickr user mslibrarian

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