her purse
had cobwebs in it
from never being open.
she depended on the kindness
of men.
all curves
and hair, lips,
sleek and Italian.
a red
sports car
of a dame.
the bumpers gleamed.
but open the door
and you got
ice.
not the sweet kind either.
but dry ice, so cold
it burned
to the touch.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment