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By Violet Date: 2003 Mar 28 Comment on this Work [[2003.03.28.11.08.10001]] |
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shreds of conversation lay on the table she turns her palms up in her lap and examines the lines that cross her soft, hot flesh he is swimming in cologne he has perfected small spikes of hair standing at attention, crisp to the touch he remembered to pull out her chair and order her entree he does not look like the type to whisper in her ear or not run down the beach at midnight in his underwear this boy plays by the rules he does not drink or smoke he works for his father he wants to live next door to his ma and pa in a humble home with his humble wife and meet for board games every night after supper his intellect is small and his charm is smaller she is wild and dying in captivity she stands quickly and says goodnight he scrambles to pay the bill and run after her his little cries of panic fade into the distance as she flies off on the back of the waiter's motorcycle |