Improv 1 Week 9

Returning Madame Bovary

At the bookstore, I wait
on a cashier who won't take my return
without managerial approval, to be granted by Bill,
who is on managerial break,
and I wonder what if, what if I lean

across this counter, scattering the blue

and black ink pens, the red foiled chocolates,
and grab his narrow necktie,
choke him slightly, pull
his pocked face to mine and kiss him,
pushing my tongue into his mouth,
while sliding my hand down the front
of his flat-front khakis,
then would I get what I want?

After all, isn't that what we all want:
to be pursued with single-minded urgency?
To have customers, lovers, readers
like the man sitting in prison
for ten years with only his mother and blonde cousin for visitors?
To have him reach through the bars
to what's past them—
to the female prison guard who lingers,
studies her nails, counts floor tiles,
like she's waiting for something
more than the end of the shift?

                      Katie Chaple

Returning Pennsylvania Avenue (first 14 lines)

At the train station window, I wait

on an attendant who does not speak

my language, he calls for Callan

whose dialect is no better

and I wonder what if, what if I slid

my body across this counter, scattering the dotted-

lined documents, the unofficial pencils,

and thrust her pressed shirt upward,

roughly pulling at her belted loops

facing her buckle away from mine and

dragged my tongue up the track of her back

while slipping my hand past her

curved breast rail,

then would she comprehend?

                       Brandy Adams