Her Cottage
She said that I had the key to her cottage.
So I checked my own array, no, all of these are mine.
Car. Apartment. Mailbox. Work door. Bike lock.
I’ve really only got a few.
But she’s the opposite of flippant.
As I am, also, so I knew that something else was said.
This is not about steel on a ring, or a wooden door.
It’s something pumping.
Pulsating, I realized that cottage is the wrong word.
And here is what I know. If I had such an access,
privilege, I would never press something so hard,
against her heart.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2009
2 comments:
Now, the key to her heart,
where is that one?
The bum probably lost it, dammit!!! It takes a woman to help a man find his keys, most of the time anyways.
C.
Post a Comment