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Oct 2019
A girls arm slides across my back and for a moment, Iā€™m spinning like a kid, sherbet crazed.

All I had done was listened,
Drink did the rest I guess,
Listened to her Thatcher charged rant,
Somehow, innocent, spewed though lipstick rouged cleft lip!

She a plunging sparrow,
Befuddled on tequila,
Diving at a mouse marked with Brut.    

Iā€™m hers,
A hooded, unloved, forlorn, lonely mouse.
Written by
Stephen Moore  M
(M)   
173
   ottaross
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