sometimes we're lovers -
when I haven't been talking to him
and you're sick of driving girls to their cars
in the morning -
you call me
and I come over
and for three days
we smoke cigarettes in your bed
and you play the trumpet
while straddling my ass
and we occasionally step out
for coffee
where we run into your friends
who pretend to not notice
how lonely
we both are.
No comments:
Post a Comment