Aback of the cafe, amongst ja;3Czzy 20-somethings, you spied her eyeing this zoo salesroom. Her racoon eyes saccaded, too soon. She was intrigued by you, you urban caballero, and acceded to your "C'mon" claim. You made her cozy and unhitched your ride--with a little something extra ("for the wait")--and so the cab zoomed off.
Your fresh bachelor's frock announces your fortune. The economics of moon sight, your suppressed cackles ring between throat and lips, mascara and cologne. Out here in this perfect carbonless night, the fusion and fission in skilless contact of snouts, your goddess for a night abuzz with nuclear delight.
Roughly making room in your overstuffed room. Roughling hips which arms acune. Rough cackles come giggles come sighs come smothered by your barterings of Bacilli.
Your over-caffienated macroevolutionary pressures have you known for your nightly abysses, for being lost in a bitter torrent of kisses, for mornings agog in the same old messes. She knew you were a ladykiller
but her cutoffs carefully hid her abscesses, the mark of her cabal,
so you didn't know
that she
had killed you.