Saturday, January 15, 2011

She Fried Me Good


and I fell
head over heels
in love with her

like flipper hearts and
lips babbling with nervous fingers

she was packed into a white t-shirt
with a bottle of beer
in her glamour hand
on the back porch
of some party of
free ale and wine

drunk drunk
we walked home
gabbing away
about other things
way out things
like masturbation and barflies
insects and couch repair

and when she said
that
without music life is a mistake
I take her Friedrich Nietzsche quoting mind
and want to fuck it harder
than her body
which was the tip top first thing
that
drew me in

and at home
on the sofa with
Bukowski running across my
television set
I made her a heatable
microwavable
and very tasty cheap pizza

with frozen cheese intact on her upper lip
 all I want now
is to move in
fast
like a secret
and nibble it off of her
to great applause
from the neighbors peering  in through the
hot July window air

but
playing it cool
I make no advance that night
and she sleeps
silent and
alone on my bed
with a soft mellow pillowcase
and me
on the floor
next to the ashtrays and empties

I slept the best that night
and
 in the warm summer dawn
I wished her a good morning
with Fruit Loops
and invisible kisses
on her spoon
which she gobbled up
much to my
great joy

and now
I love her harder
than I did
when my cock was still straight
and my heart was uncooked

my dear lady
pass me a cigarette
and tea cups
tonight
and open wide for me
for the millionth time
and I will blabber my tongue
and
fry my sex hotter than you can imagine
even these many years past
I am still
the Eiffel Tower
on fire
for you
and you alone


















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