Daily Poem – Marvell Noir
August 16, 2006
by Ann Lauinger
Sweetheart, if we had the time,
A week in bed would be no crime.
I’d light your Camels, pour your Jack;
You’d do shiatsu on my back.
When you got up to scramble eggs,
I’d write a sonnet to your legs,
And you could watch my stubble grow.
Yes, gorgeous, we’d take it slow.
I’d hear the whole sad tale again:
A roadhouse band; you can’t trust men;
He set you up; you had to eat,
And bitter with the bittersweet
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