her leasuire face her leasuire face painted thick hangs in the evening light of the car backseat disembodied and surreal passing headlights demonstrate the subtle differences between her left and right eyes they each shout casual references to deviancy but neither comes clear to route this is achieved so one is left wondering at that implied reality you can almost taste its impeccable champagne quality but you know that its aftertaste is of cheap cotton candy she has been speaking non-stop and your mind returns from its wandering vacation to her thought caravan an endless stream of weary wagonloads of useless information you look with longing to the desert of his thoughtless mutterings least there you are not expected to acknowledge or recompense she leans back and unfolds her duplicity like a sly smile on a sinister face it comes out whole and unbroken birthed without a sound on the seat next to you its wet foul skin touches you repulsed skin she quickly gathers it back and pushes it into her many pockets with a nervous laugh and quick fearful glances at his unseeing face in the front seat he mummers on you catch a phrase or two before he subsides the cat has been chased and now rests the day is long but not long enough as you arrive at your fate and the car ceases movement you spring from its confines to the last clutch fingers of her lust and the dour eye of his steering wheel another night survived her skin follows you inside and lay next to all night creating sounds and moving in subtle ways you lay staring at the ceiling unable to rest end
Posted on: Tue, 05 Nov 2013 14:58:24 +0000
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