Inspired by random words …
Would you risk yourself for a beer
from a fridge in Malibu?
Or are you too hooked to newspaper news
while you cushion your absence with postcards?
There are no candles nor menus in this restaurant,
just sex offers on a dirty blackboard,
and there’s just a wheel to my bicycle,
so let’s paint our ceiling with a full palette.
Her lips were tightly shut; the transient shade of the flame
could be seen through the lampshade.
Her slips-ons were off and the bathroom cabin open.
Her night gown had unfolded on the bedroom floor
and the curtains were drawn.
A bow hat hung from the wooden candlestick
on her bedside table.
She had born with his light humor about zipping vaginas
and pubis signs that were more significant
than those of the stars in the universe.
The flame in his groin had burnt out and her mouth
and thighs were just the spoils of a lost battle.
“Here is your gown” said he, handing the shirt to her.
He was covering his shame with the sheets,
but looking her in the eye.
“Good night”, said she, shutting the door behind her.
He only laid back in bed and got asleep.