Lovers often have a code,
saving embarrassment
at cold anatomy.
A shared and secret
intimacy, texted
invitations to
take the side train
to Ginzling or
ride the Tango Dancer's
limb mean so little
outside our shared
taxonomy yet
fill the absent hours
with the thrill
of delayed fantasy.

Comments
Ewan | January 29, 2008 - 17:52
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