Monday, August 18, 2008

UP TO HER DEATH AT THE AGE OF 83


our music is so loud we no longer exist.
when we wake up we speak in french.
we lay
in a big square minded bed.
 all together.
you, me, them, and him over there.
Im young with long black hair.
our eyes make the color of the wine we drank last night.
our neighbors hate us.
I just think their jealous because we make love.
LOUD we have brave intoxicated lungs.
LOUD our orgasms of intoxicated sound.

the female zoo