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Insanely Inane Thoughts

If fate doesn't make you laugh, you just don't get the joke.

L'affaire

Every morn I wake
and in her
I scent
you:

hazel eyes,
for we didn't
meet to
trade names
in the car
I'd driven in
circles, at Skin
Avenue, before
I drove, in circles,
through you;

and I think
to myself
that, from now on,
I should take
the bus back
home.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 15, 2006 at 12:33 PM. |

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