April 26, 2011

I catch his eye with the green hem and lining of my dress; that
and the neck line, cut as a low v.

Ask him what he’s reading; he’ll fumble
all over himself, similar to “tripping over his pants at the ankles,”
but with words.

Too much effort
goes into undressing me
in his periphery.

“Again, fumbling
with her bra,”

I imagine he’s adorable naked.

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