wait five minutes
fork pierces through soft white flesh
blood red spills of lip-ripened tomatoes
she understands the shape of words
since three weeks ago
two soups and what?
wait five.
wait ten
we have the soup or salad
glimmer of silver under grease
cigarette pierces between sun-shadowed kisses
noise too loud so we speak by hands
dreams of sleep and red wine smiles
wait ten more
until then.
Posted by sniffles at February 14, 2006 11:25 PM
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