i -sO. s
She looked at the mirror. the S slid its little black number
down her spine. the O sighed at the sight of her lines,
walking a step or two in his direction…
turned her high heels to the L of a different addiction:
I blew a kiss in the gathering up of T between silk of
unbuttoned blouses. It was then U mouthed the unzipping.
languid anticipation of D to this interior of all
he may have every dream to the un — Earth of Her.
he looked up
… was all he could read of her little black number
on the glare of his mobile pages.
August 31st 2013.