| *loolaville _poetry | |||||
| After Dinner you and i, caught in this ungraceful age of life, before the wise, gray hairs can grow but long after youth held our gaze.... here we are, left with the mortgage and children, our children who are convinced we were never born but rather appeared from nowhere at the moment we had them.... so tonight while they sleep and the corn husks are swaying, let the dishes dry on the rack and take me in the other room where the wallpaper is peeling and our quilt is fraying.... i can charm you and lay you down, touch your face and remember you as you always were and always will be, the way your eye reflects, and the skin of your neck, and how you shudder so sweetly beneath me. |
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