It is a strange sort of pain "to die of yearning for something you'll never experience"

Sunday, March 21, 2004

Icy nails

I was sitting on the green couch in the living room
A bouquet of yellow tulips in bloom
Was all I could see
When she brought me the fee
Asked if I wanted some tea
And I had pee

Her long nails covered in ice
Telling me about her husbands new device
And me trying hard not to gaze at the hairs above her lips
Or the wrinkle on her maroon-covered tits

She touched it with her icy nails
While her cat was wagging his tail
I saw them both

She whispers as she counts the money
Numbers, multiple conflicts

No comments: