Friday, January 28, 2011

My Desire To Take Out The Trash

She's just the right amount of trashy
when she bends over to set things down
in the passenger seat of her small car,
leaving her son to stand there in the heat
wondering why his mom's ass is stuck in the air,
and twenty or so years from now, why he's attracted
to the fair skin of inconsiderate women

It's a fairly new car, and I'm left wondering
as she drives up and out of the L-shaped parking lot
just why she wouldn't be running the air conditioning
and just what her moist from sweat parts would taste like
if I ran my tongue over them like the damp, cool washcloths
sat next to the beds of the sick or dying, soothing her
as she soothes me with her flesh and sighs of good pain

© 2011 William A. Robertson (All Rights Reserved)