YOUR EYES
Your eyes remind me of a
broadcloth carpet; something
I'd buy in an imported-goods
store. Without bending over,
can you get me some more? I'm
thirsty, and I've been walking
for you. Today I heard a song
about a working class girl
named Griselda. Instantly,
I never liked that name.
What should I do?
No comments:
Post a Comment