a house of cards
By anyonita green
Location: Deansgate, near Croma
it is not that i am homesick
for the house of cards, mr simic.
i yearn for the proverbial flop
of the flimsy, two-toned structure,
replica of the place where origin
begins and comfort constructs walls.
* * *
last night we circled deansgate
with our hands tucked into the palms
of each other’s, those suits
in the high-class restaurant stared
through the window as he, his
breath warm against my cheek, slowly
lifted my skirt in the cold to reveal
one woman blushed – yet could not
her eyes from us remove.
* * *
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