Monday, October 3, 2011


You're not too happy. You're jealous. You've got this slant to your green eyes. Lady's taken your place and you're pissed. No cuddling before bed, no baby talk upon awakening. Who has time for a sassy cat when Lauren's got a soft cocker spaniel with sad, mopey eyes? Not anyone. You know this, I know this.

Me and you, we're sitting here in the kitchen where the air conditioning isn't on full-blast. When I woke up, I thought we could hang out, maybe bond a little. Sit in comfortable silence. Instead, there's this wall between us. You're in a bad way and there's nothing I can do to get you out of it, no soft stroking, no name murmuring. When I tried to pick you up, you hissed. You're a bitch, Moglie, and you don't have to be. Smell L.A.'s early October morning air, god it's fresh and lovely. I'm here, Moglie, and god I'm great.   Let's soak up this time together. Let me hold you. Fucking let me hold you.

1 comment:

  1. she's got a lot of power and she's not afraid to use it . . .