The Cab Ride

Pulling myself from his warm, wet arms
was hard enough...
out into the sunny snow-glared street--
 the slick rush of noonday traffic
 as I kiss the man who confuses me,
 my toy toying with me,
 playfully unsure...

Rumbling around in the backseat
...almost there...
fumbling around my purse for cab fare
--see, I've missed the bus again--
too busy wrapped in his body, unfolding his mind...

He wants to know what I tell them.
hell, people hear what they want to,
especially when you're not sure what to say...
damn, I don't even have time before work
to have my "calming cigarette"--
those cabs always come so quick...
meanwhile,
love leaves you waiting...

C. 2003