The carpeting under your reclining form
Is stained with ink from an old-style fountain pen
And the prints of innumerable tired aching feet
Encased in sullied boots.

You are marred by nothing,
Your kiss cool and fresh, sweet, floral, clean.

Your small white hands
Explore a thread
That has escaped from a pair of old jeans-
Worn every day, rarely washed,
the pockets full of coins, lint, gum wrappers.

I take a drag off this cigarette
And contemplate how close I am in identity with it,
How I fit the mold perfectly and take no chances.
I am a case study in consistency

And you,
Dearest,
Are like nothing else
And second to none.