anything

She looks at me, quizzically,
as I plead my case:

        threats and offers give way
        to desperate promises, and they in turn
        to three syllables wrapped distinctly
        by my blueing lips.

An
y
thing.

And then she laughs crazily but soundlessly
on the other side of the glass,
before turning away and leaving the room,
and only then do I realize
that sound doesn't travel in a vacuum.