Our Simile

I was sitting there, alone, on my perch...

like a full bellied pigeon on a freshly washed car -
like a stray shopping cart in an open parking spot -
like fresh crumbs on a newly wiped table -
as curious as a toddler to an open electrical socket -
as oblivious as an oxygen filled balloon -
as vulnerable as fresh cheese on a mousetrap -

until her glances met mine from across the room...

like the taste of black licorice on an unadulterated palate -
like watching a toothless crocodile chomp a thick gazelle -
like lighting a cigar on a crowded playground -
as intriguing as running a half full dishwasher -
as alluring as baiting fresh shrimp on a brand new hook -
as tempting as skipping a rest stop on a long road trip -

we neared each other in proximity because we could...

like when your phone signal goes from 5G to 1X back to 5G -
like picking up a nail in the sidewall of a brand new tire -
like wearing a speedo at a zero foot zero inch pool -
as silent as an elephant wearing ten thousand jingle bells -
as relaxed as a grass stain in brand new white slacks -
as nerve racking as a vegetarian in a butcher store.

our first words colliding before we started to dance...

like a stutter in a room full of well renowned public speakers -
like a stray pubic hair on a clean toilet seat -
like leaving a fresh hickey in a hidden location -
as calm as an ocean in a category ten hurricane -
as lukewarm as under-microwaved leftovers -
as inviting as showing up to an RSVP without RSVP'ing.

then, in fluid movements, the moment becomes us...

like unwelcomed teenage chatter behind you in a movie theater -
like trying to hide a cold sore when you want to make out -
like putting up your Christmas tree the day after Halloween -
as fast as a snail with snakeskin boots -
as thin as the backside of a brand new thong -
as slick as mud that has been showered with KY Jelly.

Are we like the simile...
or
Our we as the simile...

we break away only to come back together again...

like cold peanut butter sliding down a dry throat -
like worn cleats trying to dig into freshly laid turf -
like the residual pancake syrup stuck in the corners of your mouth -
as tight as a shoe that is half a size too small -
as memorable as your first public display of affection -
as fitting as a new pair of starched, unwashed jeans.

I think to myself once more before making my first move,
hoping she willingly accepts it for what it is -
nothing more but a clever move with intentions...

Are we like the simile...
or
Our we as the simile...

like
or
as

and she does more than accepts it -
she returns it -
and it leaves its mark -

like running naked through a field filled with a million bees -
like a cat clawing itself out of a wet paper bag -
like long fingernails scratching over a fresh mosquito bite -
as tasteful as a vegan vampire -
as cold as a polar bear's armpit -
as warm as the light of a thousand campfires -

Are we like
or
Our we as

Simile -
a simple figure of speech...

The figures being us...

The speech being the moment...

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