Plastic Bound
She walked in with the look of sunshine in her left eye.
Behind the curtain I could not tell if she were gorgeous or just blind.
When her plastic bound foot was placed upon my linoleum floor
I took a glance behind to see where the projector of these lies laid.
The unexpected encounter had unexplained consequences to blame.
I couldn’t say no to this sudden dream.
She made her way into my uncompromising mind.
The tables had been turned. I was swept away.
The clouds left sight over the barren, desert hills.
Colors I had never seen began to creep
From the ground, in the sky as I stared out my back window.
With her lying by my side, I felt happy; I felt complete.
The cellophane is sitting on the hardwood floors.
A gray blue moth is landing on my plaster walls.
The indents from the coffee table are obvious
After the rough sex bumped it over, just a notch.
Already in my door, her feet were sunburned and bare.
I offered a cold, wet rag and she gladly accepted.
We met at the town square on a Saturday afternoon.
I made my way in before she had a chance to adjust her black hair.
Ten years later we lie in the same place; we have not moved.
We feed and drink off love and lust in this beautiful place.
In our self-induced ecstasy we have bonded by the skin.
The extraterrestrials came and took us absolutely nowhere.
I will not say the clouds have returned from their departure.
My beat up shoes are still assembled next to her bandages.
Nuroo’s right eye now has a glare my father would be proud of.
My bottle of beer remains half full and unfermented.
Copyright © Rick Watters | Year Posted 2007
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