I think its funny you all sit square
Comfortable in your pressed suites
I itch to strip to black lace underneath
I drown the corporate banter of economic crisis
The lame back in forth of your PTA meetings and t-ball games
My eyes are glued to the pages of erotica
I drift away into a world of dangerous sexual adventures
Surrounded by suites
I’m tied up and whipped
They become white noise to my threesome
Blackberries create a corporate tan to the faces
While I text you to call while mines on vibrate
As the ride home ends
They go home to a family dinner
Balanced meals and fake conversations
I am greeted to you warm on the kitchen table.

06/16/2009

Posted on 06/17/2009
Copyright © 2024 Deanna M Gritsonis