Tonight's Poet Corner: At The Auction
At The Auction
by Belinda Roddie
You and me, we're a real live, raw,
walking dichotomy - we shouldn't be
together. No, we should be outside
promoting autonomy. Yet here we are,
at the local crazy's art gallery, sipping
bad wine out of flutes while observing
crude, oily renditions of female anatomy.
At the auction, we don't need some stiff
and formal introduction. The fluctuations
in our voices are enough to start the wonky
amateur stage production.
Your friend Valerie's getting wary of how
close I am to you, like we're gonna
marry in the morning like Romeo and Juliet
under a canopy, their romance on 'roids
and way too much ecstasy. People say
opposites attract, and they're so fucking
spot on. We're bubbling in a passion cauldron,
because somebody left the pot on.
by Belinda Roddie
You and me, we're a real live, raw,
walking dichotomy - we shouldn't be
together. No, we should be outside
promoting autonomy. Yet here we are,
at the local crazy's art gallery, sipping
bad wine out of flutes while observing
crude, oily renditions of female anatomy.
At the auction, we don't need some stiff
and formal introduction. The fluctuations
in our voices are enough to start the wonky
amateur stage production.
Your friend Valerie's getting wary of how
close I am to you, like we're gonna
marry in the morning like Romeo and Juliet
under a canopy, their romance on 'roids
and way too much ecstasy. People say
opposites attract, and they're so fucking
spot on. We're bubbling in a passion cauldron,
because somebody left the pot on.
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