Lying here lizard-like I wait for sun to warm my reptilian
blood – chilled for a year in the escritórial freezer,
cooling month by month as fortunes fall and rise.
Office intrigue sand-blasts my outer skin; my chameleon eyes
blink. He said you were, you are, too little, too much,
too late, too soon, too ready now to escape it all.
In the fog of early dawn a taxi waits; its tinted glass shields
from curious eyes, gives space to resume my ordinary hue,
stripped of due performance in exotic shades to match
the corporate branding. I don’t smile, yet, but basking
on my toweled bed the blood rises; hour by hour the calloused skin
peels until I am left pink, nubile, ready to engage