Watching CNN without Sound in the Hotel Lobby Bar
       

All the gestures matter more and how their lips move. How the one
sort of adjusts himself in his seat and takes the stance of debate—
tired of listening, wanting to speak. There's four and then three
and then two, briefly, and then someone far, far away with a scarf
artfully wrapped around her neck using her hands to emphasize.
Behind her, it's dark and there's only one dim light in the distance
and even from where I'm at, I can tell it's hot where she is, that
makeup is a useless thing. Back in the studio, their faces are so
caked it's as if I could reach forward and scrape the foundation off
like I did that horrid wallpaper in my apartment on Porter.
Their eyes are all too blue and their hair unnaturally vibrant while
they comment on this particular invasion and its ramifications. Or
so I understand from the feed that keeps repeating itself. Flash—to
this moment, here. Flash— to this one, now. And then we're back
to a circle and the one and then the other, and how if you look
long enough you start to imagine they're not even human.

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from Sugar House Review
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