Wednesday, March 20, 2013

keep your feet dry

your car is cold
blinking lights blur, bleed
tongue slippery
in drink

my chapped lips betray
fettered words,

sliding, slipping out
collecting, like a puddle
at your feet


the watery light seeps
though the blinds
at dawn

finds them knotted,
tethered back inside,
where they belong

(you stepped over the puddle, anyway)