My smile is your smile. Your smile is my smile. I am my smile so I smile. Is this your first time? You seem nice. You look nice. I think about licking the salt off your skin. Then I think about the low sodium turkey that’s dry. Then I think about licking the slicer on auto, to just slice a thin layer off my tongue. Are you comfortable? No? Are you female? No? Are you feminine? No? Ok good. God. good. It is what it is. Meat is meat. Sit, sext, sigh. Sometimes, I bring ham into the bathroom and cover my face with a slice of ham, I am a product in beauty that exfoliates my pores and eliminates my blemishes and masks my insecurities. I hide in the ham, I am wrapping myself in its folds, draped across my predisposed skin. Sadness sags beneath my eyes. Velvet hands me ham I am, then outline my flaws in black. So that’s unique. I’m unique. Do you think I’m special? They do look deflated like balls you’re right.