By Madison [aka_madison@hotmail.com]
Date: 12 October 1999

Brunch

You want me to go where?
to Mexico?
Flipping through my leather book
(one hundred percent man-made)
I work that week, I say, 
fingers crossed behind my back
as I shift to a casual pose.
Sipping mimosas, my
eyes mesmerized 
travel from his face
the sculpture of his lips

to the cobblestone entryway.
I picture a private board in 
schoolgirl chalk 
close to the corridor
where it blurts he's attached and I
write fifty lines of the cost is too high.   
Pastel powder clings to
a long black dress.
Red Herring
Special of the Day
fish under glass

displayed for my delight. 
(ooh la la)
As I move restless in my chair 
the white cotton towel passes
(which way is the sea?)
from one fingertip to the next
as if answers
(toss this one back)
were embossed on one side.  
Excuse me, Valet? 
Do you still have my keys?





M Madison
12 oct 99
copyright © 1999