The Handsome Couple

In madras plaids and in seersuckers, a handsome couple, we’d be those fuckers, my lipstick careless, your eyebrow rogue, this month in Paris, next month in Vogue, cocktails and vomit, your laughter low, my every comment a sly bon mot, a game of bocce, five-o-clock shadow, our gamine urchins named Lark and Meadow, your highball turns eyeball whites to yellow, your stomach turns washboard hard to jello, you slap me ’round in children’s full view, I sleep around, I am in Bellevue, our rustic garden with urns of plaster, the kids are hiding, you slap me faster, the cash runs out and we crash the car and it’s past checkout and it’s sayonara.

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