When you sit across from me
Sipping your cup of milky earl grey
I know you are noticing
Those rusty slivers of heme
Dulling my nails
There from when I scratched his eyes out
You casually study the bulge in my pocket
Where those eyes lose their moisture
And their retinas are fading from cornflower to haze
Oh how I covet
Your superior skills of detection
You restless sage with your blended persona
Part teapot, part Mainer, part immigrant entertainer
Though your lips are thin
Your smile is pleasing
And I hope to endear as many when I solve nefarious murders
And publish a succession of books
By “Shaunda” on MySpace, 2008. Merci, Rob.
51.529956 -0.221059
