Eyes that Play, 2006

I see where your thoughts are–
you play.

They called us ‘red faces.’ His face
is red. Heated. Flushed.

‘Maureen, who shot you in your face so
many times?’
I don’t know. It was a mistake.

Miss. Taken.
Miss.
Good visit.

A shaken body. An addict stopped.
Still. Will you tickle my face tonight?

Will you cradle me? Please love.
Take mercy on this woman. She’s taxed.

In/dependence–you don’t see the beauty.
I wonder if you love. An abstract joke.

The woman with the red lips. She loves you
already. I say that you will meet. Someday.

But, you’re gone with the breeze. Heading East
instead of West. I drove as they flew above me.

They are here now. And, I just sit here, with
papers in piles. Softness. Fresh. And new.

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© 2010 by Felice Tebbe. All rights reserved.