a city boy's guide to the south

Welcome, friend, to the ramblings of a southerner by choice.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

julie anne

Are you naked under that apron?
Your sagged breasts smell of saffron and meat.
I knead, whimper rosebud
My hands grip the playdoh, twin
velveteen rabbits. I slink

mottled glimpses between straps of canvas
these nothing honey-mead links
You've rousted my monkey with fatback rouladen.
Your vichyoisse louses the cupboard.

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