Thin Tolerances

He talks to me with his hands
more than with his mouth;
his mental gestures flutter around me.

When he's near I get this vision
of sinking my head into the lower region
of his spitting-cobra-face,
and I smile contentedly as his teeth
rain down my face and dance on the floor.

My body twitches just at the thought.

You may think me extreme or violent, and
to an extent, of course you're right,
but you stand near him, just for a minute,
dodging his gestures and
fighting his ear-ache-rantings.

You'll be surprised what your mind can do
with the closest, blunt objects.