Published on: 8/15/2006
More Nonsense

Sunday mornings, sometimes
the light catches on your
dark spindly fingers,
your hands waving newsprint
in the open window; if only
you would leave with
pride,
suitcase lined in powder blue satin,
lipstick and scarves and lingerie tucked
neatly away inside.
Instead,
your hands trail words
in the wide shaft of weekend light and
I am only sorry
that I am not ashamed.