ECONOMICS OF LOVE
paul weinman
Slipping her hand under my shirt
she talks waxy-fast, lisping a little.
Asks me if itsy-bitsy mice
nibble at my bank account
as her fingernails ease into my skin.
“Remember those meaningful moments
of those chocolate covered cherries you bit.
Had me sip from their brown hollow
as you rolled red with tongue.
I licked your chin for dribble
even other places where CDs hid.”
She says as she sways from room
my ATM card waving, fanning her heat.
Adding...“Easy exchange
for lack of sensibilities
this subtracting.”
