Peppermint shampoo

By Julia Colombo

When left alone imagination’s tears

betray me. Looming doubts conceived by dread;

but can I love him too? And can I shed

the other occupants between my ears?

Unconsciously I trace forbidden threads

and then, without permission, judgement’s gone.

It's not like I intend to fixate on

how bad I want him in my bed.

Distorted by the influence of rum,

I catch a whiff of peppermint shampoo

in curly hair that oh-so-badly needs a trim.

His hand rests just above my knee, his thumb

so slowly tracing circles. For a few

distracted moments I don’t care. And I don’t stop him.