And as I fucked her I agreed
Took her to breakfast
Smiled, made literary jokes
Walked back through morning streets
The sun blanched by cloud cover
Old industrial facades rising
About us like bookends to history
She held me like a cuckoo
A prize won unfairly
I felt my skin sloughing in her hand
Her small lips seeking mine
Saying: “Fuck me again, baby”
And in the rutting I saw clearly
That she had mistaken wholly
A good time for fate
Fuck buddies for soul mates
And I heard her break as I told her so
She said she would never drink
Or have sex again and I laughed
Underestimating her mendicant resolve
My cynicism was well rewarded
She didn’t stick to either side of the bargain
But went back to writing “bits”
I wonder who will read the wilting words
Tapped out by her harsh fingertips?
© shaun patrick green 2011
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