What I Want

I stayed with my hands
at my sides while you offered
a cold shoulder which didn’t
inhibit anyone’s thirst
although that was your
readymade handi-wipe whip
which didn’t serve the guests
their apportioned amount
of roadside swerving to avoid
the insects splayed across the wind
shield although it was my habit
of mind to offer freight trains
of disgust for the sake
of underhanded compliments
upbraided over the counter
into your willing hands your
co-opted smile resting on
the cold shoulders you offered
as a replacement for whatever
you guessed might be what I wanted.