The Conversation (write-a-thon edition poem)

Your eyes looked, your head turned
Your lips smacked, your back leaned
into me
Your chin held your face
Your hair claimed your shoulders
Your hands hold it all in
Your feet step out,
Your knees buckle under
Your ass takes a seat,
Your hips roll like thunder
Your face a mask of discontent,
then interest, then indecision
then impatience
like watching TV
Your stomach grumbles under your breasts
your knuckles pop, grind
your fingers fiddle with the air
Your nose wrinkles under bountiful cheeks
that shine like pavement after a shower
Your ears are ready to run away--
diamond studs twinkle,
giving away their hiding place.