The conversation lasted into the
long tooth hours of the night.
She read her textbooks and then heard a mouse with its
tail barely caught in a glue trap. It squealed as if it were dying.
In my heart I believed it was savable.
In the agony I imagined him dreaming of fields and insects and seeds.
She had these cold gray eyes.
In one quick movement, she took off
one of her clodhoppers and smashed its brains out.
She cleaned her shoe with a tissue, she said,
I neither hate the mouse nor love it, it's just a thing.
At that moment I was pretty sure she was psychotic.
We're both drunk, I kept watching her ass in that
tight black dress.
She said in a very automated voice, I suppose you want to
fuck me now and then slithered out of the dress.
Pussy is pussy
But I couldn't do it. I told her to put her clothes
back on and not kill anything on the way out.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 16th, 2023 00:05
- Comment from author about the poem: Check out my book Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems on Amazon.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: John Lee, ILuminous
Offline)
Comments4
Good write Thomas.
That's willpower
Superb the imagery and of course sexual relations with a mouse killer would put even the hardest of humans off probably. Again you Definately have a Bukowski muse that could actually be mistaken for the real thing. LoL ❤️
Thank you.
Yes! Lol.. I love it. I'm more of a empathetic person myself.. poor mouse.
Thank you. I appreciate it.
You're welcome
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