i fell in love with you in the duty free shop at Heathrow airport in April -you were buying wine and navy blue jockey underwearsinging wildly to yourselfsome Manchester United football chants -i tried on sunglassesso you couldn't see mestaring right at you -but i think you noticed.you offered me a drink from the bottleas i woke from a nap just in time to catch my flight -i would have emailed like you askedbut i lost the recipe you gave mewith your details written on itin crayon you borrowedoff a small Asian child.
mesh strings and satin bows entangle her yearning handsunfamiliar fabrics and shapesa green lace thong to match her eyesa shear black nightslip to go with hisluxury in textilesblushingCan I try these on?Yeah, go ahead...Ya gotta leave ya underwear on though. It's the law. Curves revealed and upliftedthrough satin yet white cotton peers and scoldsreflection divulges the truthHow are ya makin' out hun? They fit, huh? That green one...Oh! I bought that number last week..No, I'll just take this. Black leather couchmahogany bedmidnight nightslipbarbera pouredWhite linens puddled on the floorDid you like my new outfit?I never saw itWas it green?
*harrold in the walmart women’s underwear aisle a blue-smocked employee surveys him closelyas he stands between the push-up bras and socks, perusing swatches of three-panty packs at one a.m.she pretends to straighten lingerie as she watches him dash towards the register with the same pink pairhe’d seen stretched taught across his wife’s bottom —a soiled pair he’d delicately removed and discarded,then rushed out to replace, in fear she might wakefrom her mojito sleep to the shame of incontinence.
THE ROAR Will this drown out the roar of thosecrates full of dull fruit taking off downdrunken runways into the night?Will the curved earth look flatter from aboveand night open its velvets to enter her secretshowever hidden they might be in the bottom dregsthrough which we drag ourselves to anotherport of entry in some faraway destinationfalling asleep in interim lounges and dreamingunderwear alone on a rooftop havingplunked down cash at the cash registerfor a bare covering of nakedness?One cup brimmed to the top won't suffice for itone lick of its steaming nectarone window overlooking the black airfieldwhere souls take off and land asleep orawake through divine eyesdrunk with tears
this glass is broken, you'd sayit's a family saying, meaningmy drink is all goneI can't have had it all,it must be the glass' fault, and thenwe'd laugh and pour anothertonight, as I sit with this bottle aloneI think, "perhaps it is broken.it empties so fast, and thenso does my glass. did I break them bothwhen you broke my heart?"
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wandering through the silk and satinthese push up thatthose cling tightly to itthey lift and firmwhat the hell sizedoes she weargsbatty/2009no one drinks wine alonewhy notit's my wineI can do as I pleasegsbatty/2009asleep on the floordon't care any morethe dam planeis stucksomewheregsbatty/2009
on the second day afteryou were goneshe popped open the bottleof red you bought speciallyfor her visit.she didn’t, but felt like smilingthinking of you perusingthe liquor store aisles intentlyand patiently for the right selection.the dark bottle sat lonely on the counterbeside three half green bananas.and when she entered with your keyafter the white hospital lights, afterthe stainless steel morgue, afterthe blurry thursday afternoonshe knew you set them there (youa beer drinker who liked banana bread and not bananas)anticipating a quiet weekend visitfrom a sister four hours away.
RevengeIt seemed appropriate;a bottle of red and murder.Alone in the shadowsshe contemplates her choices.They were the color of nightand as soft as silk.A cool G laid on the counter;she slipped the underwear into her bag.Airports are never a good place to sleep;phantoms lurk in shadows.A woman drunk on red and plotting murder smiles,she's feeling good in her thousand dollar purchase.
I will be back...thank you for the invitation!bb
see you later - thanks
Back again...I dealt with them individually: CLICK ME
I write truly horrific poetry, just for laughs. Is that acceptable here?
write Ezinne! write!