she asks
me
over a lobster dinner.
her fingers are dripping with
butter
and she has the onion ring
basket
pulled up close to her dish.
we should get more beer,
she says,
and corn on the cob,
are you going to finish yours?
i love poetry she says.
spinning the cob around in her teeth
like a machine
Eli Whitney would be proud
of.
my mother used to read me
poetry when i was little.
Do you like Dr. Suess or more
darker stuff
like Tupac?
No comments:
Post a Comment