I saw a man at the Starbucks today, his
eye caught mine, or tried to, with his arm
around a woman’s shoulders as she kissed
his neck tenderly, he tried to wink at me.
So I cut a smile from
the plastic and sheet metal
around my teeth, flashed him
a hyena grin, pulled from
the 27th century, made sure he
saw the hawk in my eye,
the metal flash of metacarpals as I
brushed a stray strand of hair out of my face.