Seventy-nine days ago I walked home in early
September wearing a smell
of you.
You said once, while massaging my back,
tense and fickle, but folding
under your hands;
“We're all off *** It's a matter of increments.”
Today, moving back and forth in this building
It's rough-cut stone walls a consolation,
I think, borderline obsessively,
You don't know what to do
with a woman like me,
do you?
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:00 PM UTC
Seventy-nine days ago I walked home in early
September wearing a smell
of you.
You said once, while massaging my back,
tense and fickle, but folding
under your hands;
“We're all off *** It's a matter of increments.”
Today, moving back and forth in this building
It's rough-cut stone walls a consolation,
I think, borderline obsessively,
You don't know what to do
with a woman like me,
do you?
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