There Wild Anonymous 1

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Eingestellt von: Joe Gri

Text:

© Joe Gri
Our billet-doux will go unseen, they won't publish our poems in a magazine, Valentines, Birthday cards, love notes inbetween. Monogamous. Anonymous.
The nudes you drew of me won't be shown. The roses we planted bloom for us alone. Dinners we cooked, all the leftovers gone. They were marvelous. Anonymous.
We kept love to ourselves, hid what we did. We battened the hatches and tinghtened the lid. Under the blankets, off the grid. Autonomous. Anonymous.
On exhibit in heaven, or maybe in France, there's a portrait of us in a bedtime dance, pride of the gallery of Unclaimed Underpants. That's us. Anonymous.
Deep in the woods where nobody goes, it's there wild strawberries grow. We sleep under the mistletoe. Don't call it lust. Anonymous.