a pear softens
to ripe meltdown
fingers perch
tentative and hushed
on the airstrip
of something incendiary

please remember to
close cover before striking

mentally tallying
the ascending tooth count
a tempered smile
as I read “xyz”
I breathe in
the squirm, suppress a
jaded laugh at the
blonde gasp

once again
I can persuade
a reading
beneficial and palatable
to a tarnished mirror
such as mine

near sightedness
now that I no longer
allow myself to
look into your eyes.

overtones that divide
in the absence of your
soft alto

all my coarse colors
derive from blunt crayolae
hunted and pecked
from the recollection
of words…

watercolors
those words

lies that you could not tell
have unwrapped those
in my busy lips

© Tom Watters  8/4/07