| I'm hurrying home, knowing that she will be there, waiting in bed for me, but when I open the front door, I see that all of the furniture has been moved around. I find her in bed all right, but the bed is now in the living room, and she's lying nude on rumpled black sheets, partially covered by an open suitcase containing a small red tapestry depicting the exact image of her at that moment, only in saintly tones. She smiles saintly, and beckons me to her warm body, but I have to know why the bed is in that room. My questioning leads to her glib admission of having sex with some acquaintance there on that bed, but still she pulls me to her, ready to please me. I am repulsed and jump into a rage, throwing the suitcase against the wall, but even then I reach for the smoothness of her limbs. Then she tells me the bed needs to be moved back to the bedroom. Her audacity amazes me -- rearranging my house, soiling my sheets with another, then wanting me to move furniture after my working all day. My hand leaves her, and she runs off into the kitchen, crawling into a different bed there. I stand alone, horrified, thinking of burning that bed, those black sheets. But instead I join her in the kitchen bed, ignoring her petulance as I tear at a blur of blankets and bedclothes until at last her bare little baby devil bottom is revealed. I am deciding whether to spank it or poke it when I wake up. |
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| Poemission |
| That Last Dream About Her |