ii by Charisma Rat

The doll face with curved lips
Snaps daylight out from fog
Her wig droops slightly
You begin to wonder
What's really under that tail
Hours wind by
Feeling of plastic moving between your teeth
You check your gums
You remember the taste as a kid
The word is a mess of memories
Tiny curves quickly overcome you
White salt, tiny grains
The dim whistling
Cubes lodging in your mouth
Colder now, she reads
Troublesome swishing
The afternoon, hanging from a branch
"Koom tolk fer mah yancwich"
The ease-breeze be stripped to the marrow
The a who-said
To the well-fed
To a working girl on the verge
And her misty eyes
Overwhelming all thought
Distracting all correction
Detracting from direction
"What hands be soft enough to cut mine?"
"What fingers be dull enough to hold?"
"What flesh be dry enough to call from my deep sleep?"
"What waist can bear my folds?"
Concentrating on the tiny details
because those are the most artsy
He draws out a rough sketch of her face
HER
He draws a deep breath,
as he is a wanting lover-boy
And he plunges his tongue
the largest muscle
Into the scalding-hot coffee
Inches from his chin
He does not flinch
He does not screech
He thinks only of her, and the countless songs he will inevitability write
for her
As he is the tragic
Love-stricken hero
on heroin (cause he has to be)
The bona fide grav-pusher
Force-muncher
Face-hater
A thirst for emerald and blood
Comfy household subscriptions
And drawstring pastimes
Cold dreams emanate from his loins
He dreams of his barbecues and steady muff
Poker night
Matching pajamas
Matching pillows
Matching socks
Matching kids
And tools
Lots of 'em
And never being sure which ones are where
It is not given by merit, skill, or stripes
It is earned by one's capability to know and repeat
the key phrases
There are only two
In this order: "I'm sorry"
&
"I love you"


I'm sorry
I love you
I'm sorry
I love you
I'm sorry
I love you
I'm sorry
I love you
I'm sorry
I love you
I'm sorry
I love you

I make rackets ; Holy Cajoling & the Pitterpatters