I envy the orange
in your palm
being cut
by the knife in your hand
as you peel it
a teardrop of sweat
runs down from my neck to my spine
and stops at the curve of my back
ah, crap
I take off my coat and I sit
grab a book from my desk
and with it while fanning my face
I say „it is hot” and you smile
you are having your lunch
I cough and I make myself busy
while I peek at
and hope you don’t see
while I peek at
and hope you’re aware of my desk of my book and of me
one day I will bring you an orange
I know how you love them for lunch
I will lock the door of the office
slip out of my tangerine coat
I will say „it is hot” you will smile
I will not
and determined, I’ll hand you a knife
