The Machine

Imagine me
As you stand there
The monotony
The beeping machine registers
One, Two, Three
Heartbeats wasted.
Imagine me with you there
In that check-stand you call a job
Hidden behind the waist-high wall
And the thieving machine.
Each customer in their turn
Oblivious to my existence
Would they even care?
I know you care
But that’s because I’m on my knees
My hands snaking up your thighs.
Was it my nail that flashed in those luminous lights
Or was it the button on your slacks?
The customer doesn’t know
And clearly she don’t care
As your pants fall, followed swiftly
Skin singing under my touch
My fingers like soldiers, marching
Capturing- the thieving machine has a rival now
Now it’s me who is taking every beat of your heart
Using it as a drum to inspire my movements.
They can’t see the ecstasy in your eyes
Or hear it in your voice
Or read it on your face
The machine masks your panting, the flashing in your eyes
Not that the customers care
But I care, and you care
My fingers find you and the pave the way for my tongue.
The machine keeps beeping
Counting
One, Two, Three seconds
Before you get the chance to catch your breath.