Untitled Poem

Abstract

Th is is a crazy game of tenderness, talk softly, rock back and forth, laugh long and quietly, say I am schizophrenic but you can come in, let’s play this quiet game, pretend we’re squeezing grapes with our tongues and tasting the juices dripping down. We’re in a yellow attic, I will show you the clothes of the period, I have a muff . Do you love me for that, for showing you something that is only us? Baby, slip on this shaggy coat and we’ll walk out through the rafters.