Tiffany & he
(the ugly stranger)
- never get to know his name -
always
shared the same
bus journey
on the long way home
he got on
a few stops after hers.
She remembers thinking:
“God…he’s ugly! ”
But she liked
the beauty
of the way he stared
at her
tits
just openly
stared at them.
She never wore a bra
so
her nipples
brazen as hussies
stared back at him
bold & erect.
Suddenly
on an impulse
some mad whim
she just
did
it.
Undid
her blouse buttons
(one by one)
offered them
to him.
He sucked
greedily
as she came
and made him come
her hand
sticky & warm.
Every night
for the next six weeks
they repeated it
not saying anything
without words
(words would have ruined it)
living out the fantasy
living on the edge
thrilled by it!
Then she’d go home
and be Tiffany
good wife to Timothy.
One night
he didn’t come
and she never saw him
again.
She confessed all this
over a Starbucks
As I choked
on a: “Christ! ” croissant.
One thinks one knows
one’s friends
but really
...does one?
Dee Wright
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/breakfast-with-tiffany/
