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Five O’Clock Shadow

I rubbed my chin as if to massage intelligent speech, as if to muster some semblance of control.
I felt stubble.
Damn.
My co-lead twirled on the stage
Turned her swan’s neck
and flipped her wings skyward
and I heard groans from the row behind.
The scene was done
But a faint whiff of something
Remained on set
A scent whose sensual finger beckoned.

I’ve seen men stand and excuse themselves
After she performs.
I’ve received the backhanded comments of the choreographer
Like a splash of coke on the face.
I rubbed my chin to clean up the corn syrup goop and
I felt stubble.
Damn.

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About SpintoLovesScotch

I sing hard. I walk far. I drink a lot of whiskey.

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