Memory's a Traitor

Memory's a Traitor

Even the touch of your gentle hands cannot erase
Rusty red nights slammed up against
Old bedsprings noisy with use.  Roommates
Teased and complained and classes were forgotten
In the heat of Indian summer.
Christ.  It's sometimes hard to hate him.

*****
M.A. Mohanraj
March 10, 1994
-- 
"The November snow was thin and slushy - almost as if the angels in
Heaven were brushing their teeth and dribbling toothpaste over the
earth."						 - Mary Catherine Weir
			     _Son of "It Was a Dark and Stormy Night"_

moh2@midway.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
found in rec.arts.erotica