Moonlight on portico


Who invented the potato chip,
Taking note of the way,
Flickering video light pushes,
Over moving flesh,
And empty crisp bags and bits of popcorn,

And buttered fingers,
Moans, and buttered tongues,
And wine glasses smothered in frantic lip marks,

And over car keys,
(Both sets),
And wallets in the kitchen,
And handbags down the corridor,

And over carpet,
And high-heeled shoes,
Jackknifed in the corner,

And desperate thighs,
And potato chips.

Who allowed me to
Run around
Naked,
Unattended?

I am water on Mars.

If you look for me you will find me,
Over your skin,

And in your love.

-short evocative poetry-

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Published in: on September 10, 2015 at 11:33  Leave a Comment  
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