Sunday Morning
You should have seen me
All bravado and tits
Perhaps it was the altitude or the sheer gravity
Or it was her arms which called to mind yours
Gesticulating in the pie shop
When Mrs. Atlanta Georgia gave us the secret of lemon meringue
And the entire United States of America invited you to their house
At any rate, I was the life of the party
I thought I had some good ideas about that straight chick
Drink had shut down the mute button
And in her straight-legged jeans she called to mind your hips
In a flat-footed dash
When you were always in a race with yourself
Driving out of the mountains
Purified by humiliation
I was struck again by your intractability
And all your talk about surviving Armageddon
How you held the babies during take-off
How you survived a litany of affliction
Convinced me that your peculiar form of punishment would be to live forever
Posted By: NJ Cullen