donate to ya boy

Friday, November 26, 2010

that one movie..

paper machete crashes crumbling waves
paradeing threw the playboy mansion i take a glance at hope
the playmate of the century,
who won due to probable cause
and perfect diction.
she passes by constantley
and with beautiful form.
our noses touch the sweet scent of perfume
she turns to me,
I glance up and down across the room
in search of mirrors or tombs,
to check my snaggle tooth
or devise an escape route.
she asks if i detect this scent
I implore her to sit
we explore each others minds,
and nothing more makes sense
pretty,and hopeless,we wait.
the weight of the conversation lingers for days
im lost in the way she thinks
shes lost in the vocabulary I spit explaining her glorious ways

may comes early this year.
birthday parties are wonderful with her.
less talking,
more love
it's good for the heart we've heard.
the red wine spills on the satin sheets
tossing and turning we evaporate the liquid with body heat
she discretly turns to me
please never leave.
I grab my belongings and we never again speak.
I read her obituary this week.

1 comment:

  1. Tell me you do this to music. Damnably smooth, sir, damnably. Thanks for it.