Monday, February 9, 2009

when the cat sleeps on your dress shirts

she wanders out of
the bedroom, lazy, lusty,
langorous, glancing

at me askew while
she stretches, knowing she can
do poses i can't

or won't; but the worst
is the smell on her bosom
green, briney, complex

gin, cologne, dunhills
deals, desire and intrigue
that i'll never know

5 comments:

blue roses said...

she walks in swaggering stilettos, that one.

17 beats. said...

yeah, with chewed up heels.

east side bride said...

mmmm.

Maggie May said...

hey! love this. and the whole dang blog.

Sarah said...

i keep rereading this thinking how perfect it is...