charge it

it's the plastic card,
that thin slice of credit
that so easily appears
when something you want,
not necessarily need,
whispers buy me,
buy me now, into your ear.
and it's hard to resist.
you walk away, but circle
back, like a lion around
it's wounded prey, you touch
the fabric, the leather
shoe, the coat that
than seems perfect, the color
being so you. so you give
in. it's just one thing,
and you deserve it, you need
it, you can't live without
it. why not, life is so short
as it is. oh, just charge
it. he'll never see the bill.