03 August, 2011

Scratch, kiss.

...carries a postcard/ won't the big city be nice/ that's the place with the action/ she's gonna have her a slice....

Between the storm and dawn, I dream of you.

In the morning, I open windows to admit the sound of rattling rain.

Last night, knowing I'd been with another, he ignored me and refused to speak.

This morning, he is huggy kissy again; despite his polydactlism, he is unable to open the food container for himself.

Evidently, he has forgiven me for scratching someone's itch and having a little pussy on the side.

Still, he gives me a filthy look over his shoulder, and twitches his tail as he walks away.

(Adam Ant; Puss'N Boots)

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