Et in Arcadia Ego

Poetry is an art of imitation... that is to say, a representing, counterfeiting, or figuring forth--to speak metaphorically,
a speaking picture...
--Sir Philip Sidney, The Defence of Poesie

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Main | THE ONE WHO »
Saturday
Apr302011

ERATO

There’s nothing quite like waking up inside
a suite instead of an arbor. Nice view.
I never know if this is your room or
mine. We can blame the champagne if you like.
But I knew we would wind these sheets when I
blew on your dice, & you dropped them as if
scalded. Even the pit boss half-smiled.
Even I half-smiled when you winced, & claimed
you’d rather have me than luck. Hopelessly
cute. I can’t give you anything but love,
baby. Sometimes, not even that. It’s late.
Phoebus & his chariot, & all that.
What time is check-out? No, I really can’t.  
You’re sweet, but I have a flight to catch.
Where the hell is my other sandal? What?
Oh… sure. You’re welcome. Whatever, that’s what
I do. It’s not such a big deal, you don’t
have to go all dewy-eyed like that.
No, stay in bed. Order breakfast. I’m off.
Don’t go changin’… Ha! I know. As if
you could. Text me sometime. I like to get
texts. Don’t look so sad. Do you think this
is the only hotel room in the world?
Besides, Lenny Cohen’s a hundred floors
above, & I promised I’d ride with him
to the airport.  So keep the faith, baby.
I’ll leave the Do Not Disturb sign in place.
What? Really? Okay, okay…  but try not
to smear my lipstick. What? No, I meant it.
How could I lie, after all this time?



Reader Comments (1)

After much consideration, I'm going to have to go with this one. I absolutely love the wordplay, and I have to agree, she's a fickle one who's left me hanging on more than one occasion :)

May 2, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterNycole

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