ditch,

An Anti-Ode to Pseudo X-Ray Vision

she spoke

of the all-important anti-harassment

how to stop the workplace jokes

the looks

the comments

and all he could think

was how low her pants were riding

in front

when she stretched for the projector screen

showing this all glorious patch of golden skin

leading up

leading down

and his thoughts traveled

a ball in globetrotting hands

was she shaved scruffy

or deliciously smooth

would the hair start high or find itself riding low too

she bent to find the next overhead

cleavage moved apart

moses and the sea

magnets flipped to their anti-poles

he stared

the clip of her bra

easily accessed in front

a small red bow

begging his eyes

they gulped

a 32-ounce thirst

she spoke

about the roles of men and women

job place etiquette

and he watched her breasts wiggle

stand and deflate

nipples out

then disappeared

and back again

the top of her bra was lace

red

see-through to the skin

pale freckled

a necklace dangled

spoke of jesus amidst medium-sized melons

proclaimed christianity in between languishing worlds

immaculate conception turned all diet coke and buttons stretched tight

he heard a dog barking inside his head

a glancing instinct back to cavemen who dragged women

hair first

into their lairs

he attempted focus

listened to her

she spoke

we need to be at peace with diversity

even sexual in nature

so he thought of her

in the legs of a blonde

screaming obscenities

hair pulled in two directions

down and in

cheeks upright, tight

waving as a sea

foaming as the waves

seeing as the ever-all ocean

two women

juggling each other

misconduct in the shape of porno

silhouettes informed by a misshapen industry

again

she brought him back

again

she spoke

take the power away

by respecting words

loving one another

as equals

but by now

he was picturing her asshole

tight and wrinkled

darker than the surrounding

inconspicuous

willing

she tipped at the waist

he trembled

exhausted

she had finished speaking

and smiled

graciously

and he remembered her kids

fourteen and ten

on a school bus

sack lunches with permanent marker names

and her car

a little piece of shit thing

blueish-green

gas mileage but no prestige

and her husband

he met him at a Christmas party

shook hands as kelp in open water

curly hair

unmanageable

a glimmer of looks but nothing more

fat rolling over a cheap reversible belt

she smiled

and he trembled

thought once again of her panties

no doubt red

lace

see-through

matching

and he cursed himself

watching her smile

and speak

as he always did

as she always did

after the fact

for this pseudo x-ray vision