Kimproper Bostonian

The Illusion of Allusion

A voice like a fine white wine,
dry, with a tart undertone,
just enough sweetness
to tease and enchant the palate.

My ear felt
her breath,
a marked heat,
as she whispered,

“I want to be your blow-job queen”
with precise, crisp intonation.

An Alexandrian tilt to my neck,
I softly sibilated a reply -
“That’s a line from a Liz Phair song.”

“It is now,”
she countered
in an even, neutral voice.
No longer leaning in,
but instead,
shifting in the direction of

away.

That’s the trouble with men -
we never listen
to what’s really being said.


—david, ‘The illusion of allusion’ (http://blog.myspace.com/qzertyuiop)