Tell me what you want little birdie, tell me what you want

Twist you around and twist into me, twisting. Into you. It manipulates around, around and deep through the ceiling. 40 seconds pass too quickly and confuse. Me. And. You.

My calloused finger bends the wire, around and through. Maybe underneath. I make a hole and crawl into (the other side) is green and blue at 2 o’clock. Right now it’s half past and black. Come back next week she tells me. Next week. I forget and go somewhere new. Different, but the same.

She speaks in broken English and I wish for the same inflection. The accent makes her alluring and demure. Wanting, wanting, wanting for what you never were. She is telling me. Yet, I do not believe. Only a liar would speak so beautifully.
Convincing, almost.
But not quite.
I want to swim in the ideas she is spooning to me. I came so close. She fell short.
Good thing there was that money back guarantee.

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Shopping for shoes always lifted her spirits.