Pillow Talk

by on May 20, 2009 :: 0 comments

Is what she called it.

Batting her eyelashes
like Greta Garbo
she fluffed goose-down
for customers each day
-except the Sabbath –
in the waterbed

I stumbled upon her spell once
and fell so soundly asleep

to the soothing, rolling, seductive waves
that when I awoke the next morning
I found myself without my Sunday best
in the storefront window. Passersby gasped
pointed, laughed before I clutched two feathered cushions
to hide my modesty.

“Cash or charge?” she inquired

behind the cash register
before throwing my pants, sweatshirt and shoes
on the floor

in front of my feet
before ringing up

for each satin pillow cover.

Lesson learned?

Never expect discount
from an scorned ex-lover
of the aquatic-kind.

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