Viewing the local antiquities

My turn to look at the ceiling 

After scraping me dry with a tissue, she fits her head into the crook of my arm, and closes her eyes.

The rental darkens:

her breathing deepens, rasps, settles into a slow beat:

her flesh slowly cooling, condensing.

The spilt jewels of the city sparkle ever more brightly, through the foolish window.

My arms circle her.

Until her cell rings.


Tags: ; .


Something achingly sad about this post.

DTG xxoo

By Anonymous Pussy Talk, at January 21, 2006 10:41 AM  

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