you sneak in the back door
in stocking clad feet
stilettos in hand

dressed to kill, really
aren't you?

Yet something is a
little off, not right
hard to
pinpoint exactly, elusive

Oh yes, the sunglasses
it's cloudy, but
is the glare too bright?

Debauchery demands
her recompense, you know
those dark circles
not quite concealed
under weary eyes
unprepared as ever
for the onslaught of
information demands concerns
problems havoc dissonance

Stop! Enough!

Indulgence sees the weekend
through, but Monday
Monday is always
dressed to kill

10/30/2007

Posted on 10/30/2007
Copyright © 2024 Gira Bryant