Friday, July 18, 2008


She toasts his puny arse in a meat grinder, expert on survival.

Missunderstood, her mouth's talent for invective guards a fragile heart.

What weird game are you playing, Love, avoiding those who really need you?

She has a kind heart and fantastic lamps, but the Waitrose frumps find love?

Interesting, you smile, but your flushed cheeks say you're pissed off, Mystery Woman.

Portia's name comes up-- remembering the challenge in her eyes, I laugh.

Sweet days and nights side by side with Portia, dodging flying cups and chairs.

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