a comet hurdles into a stop sign on the side of the road,

and the sound of condensing ferraris
breaks the skin of quiet nightly noises.

as the trickles of tomato soup
run smoothly down her cheeks
i wish they were tears instead,
but the real water in her eyes reminds me otherwise.

i'm swimming in her pool,
and right now, i don't mind how soaked i'm getting,
i just wish i could hold on a few minutes more.

03/10/2009

Author's Note: this is based on a recurring fantasy i use when preparing a particular monologue.

Posted on 03/10/2009
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