Monday, February 15, 2010

february 15th, 2010

here's another cut-up I wrote with Erin Dillon...

a narrow escape

The last time I saw skin wrapped in the old flannel robe it was dull early light.  Tonight she suggested some mental enrichment before bed.  We were drinking doubles like inspired maniacs.  I sliced open the last lime and stared at the robe belt dangling by her velvety feet.  And I admit it, my downfall occurred suddenly.  Initially I tried hiding my tears but one cannot hide such potency.  Damp and disengaged, I moved the red piece on the checkerboard.  Like a bounty hunter systematically slaughtering his prey I struck with eloquent quickness.  The squeaking leather upholstery played a soft minor key.  Her coarse cry still clings to my dusty flannel.

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