Member-only story
Read This, Jerk
Hardly under the table
The kind of thoughts I’ve got
Understandably slipshod if not a bit tacky
The distant mining song of trains grumbles low
To the cat stretched to noodles in a ladle of sunlight
Or some stray lettuce edged between tiles
My expression’s tarnished and worn like sugared marble on a tombstone
Anointed with some testy blathering
Hypersensitive to the smell of your touch
Longing for the taste of the way you move
Whisk me away
Why don’t you
Oar that damn dinghy over here
While I’ve still got some fight carved into me
Rough stuff doughy up the sleeve
Got those pillows stacked so high
Always on your side
Tiny tears gouged in the flesh
Fluff to manhandle and caress
Until the puling barks of well-paid rabble-rousers fade
Like motor to changeover cues punched on film print
As we hunker down and hold on
