An old dull silver tray bought from the thrift store last polished never
Sits between us, holding a half emptied handle of rye, two rock glasses
Adjunct ice bucket and a handful of spansules all neatly lined up in a row
Like candy for the taking
Too late

Existentially snuffed out
'Yes' I thought, there's a good start
But existentialism is so boooooring dear,
such a dry, ******, passe affair, pedantic really
She groans out her words elongated like some big queen of England
Sitting on her royal *** smoking from a long black cigarette holder
I pull her towards me roughly slipping quickly into thick, thickening
Newfound (land) accents
"Listen here missy, you're no Audrey Hepburn"
Brashly kissing bright blooming vermillion lips
"And you're no John Kennedy"

Playing dress up ***; cosplay games de la haute societe
Cruel broken bank account pauvrete down and out facade
Tho this is neither Paris nor London
Nor do we find any satisfaction in our destitution
I am not a plongeur et vous,
Vous etes rien qu'un petit ami du nuit
"I'm not your *****"
All part of the act
Or so I'm told

We've forgotten who we really are behind these vaudeville masks
     The world less lucid, less clear, receding gently tho greatly
         Day by lurid day

We lay on clean cut sheets,
Bedouin Societe draped
Over her shoulder
And I
Cold. Behind her Always.

Peach fuzz silk, skin
Flushed pink at the ears
To die at the nape.
How prudent the light is
That falls to her side
Obedient and strange
Clinging to the figure like
Tailored satin.

Christ, even breath
moves with grace
Along the shoulder blades
So supple and sweet
Back down again in progression.
Slow dancing to the ballad of dream.

I hear hesitation in the footsteps
Something is wrong
Two left feet lovers
Trip and trample
She stirs, amorous,
So sweet and simply.
Lips parted, wet.
I take the time to watch

Music stops.
Fresh panic takes hold of her skin
From silk to braille.
Months of work reflected in
Eyes quickly swelling with dread
I forgot shadows aren’t invisible.

Swift lover in the night,
I collapse through the window
My lady, her banshee cries
Plucks my heartstrings
In the chord of betrayal
How audacious.

The only way to learn is the hard way
so some people say.
I like subtle teaching.
Let it hold sway
but if you think you're dense
then there's no false pretenses here,
getting hit on the head
with the truth thru a can of mace.
You obey.
Why not obey is an
institution emphasized
societe'.
"Get in line."
"Cooperate
and graduate, or else."
"hear what I say.
It's all the same.