The Ready Speech

Grocery line. Saw her.

Between the organic kale

and the oat milk, our eyes snagged

for a half-second.

And the paragraph, the one

I'd shaped and honed and carried

for ten years, every sharp word

filed to a point, it flew

through my head like a bullet train.

Perfect. Precise.

Then she just looked at her phone.

And I bought my stupid bread.

Left the words to rot

behind my teeth, again.