You know they
lick they're fingers.
get that tacky clear substance
imprinted on their phalanges.
as they turn the page.
head knods.
exactly 76.83 degrees
south.
she, straightens out the page.
I speak.
Stop - & she glares.
I know she's judging me. So I halt.
& nothing but a choke leaves
these slips. & again,
i'm quiet - & it's awkward. & she
she drops her head back into
her palm sized bible
& it reads:
"Do not judge, & criticize, & condemn others..."
Matthew 7:1-2