Aaah but how laaazy
we are you reaching
for the remote (and I ain't
lifting my *** for
nothing, even my
sense of humor
lies limp) the
weather channel
the same channel
as your arm slides
back and forth
across my belly
my **** and then
you rest your
lips, napping
one muscle
at a time

We love the local weather
dude cuz he looks like
he sleeps in his suit
sways back and forth
his whole body
a five o'clock shadow
covering the whole
east coast and we revel
in the comfort of knowing
that weather still exists
at all (just in case we
choose to stick our
heads in it)

How many love affairs
start like this, the novelty
and the simple inability
to find all those faults
you will hate each other
for later?

How many lovers had me
convinced my despair is just
a wrapping I can push away
and replace with their charm
their assurances and their
delightful plot twists?
(how's the weather up
there?)

There is a certain amount
of folly and even stupidity
to believe I can dig a hole
out of terror and despair
and put yet another lover
smack in the middle of me
yes, THERE (I have made
my simple mind up- you,
darling, are not going
anywhere)

This, you me and that
bit over in the corner? I
believe love is hiding under
the hands of a clock, under
your hands too (fill me
another drink, fill me
with your ****)

Sated, she is
proud, he is
up to the task
not quite love but
this thing here?
this thing was built
to last