A Pair
Here we sit, separately cloaked-- I, in my deformity tuxedo; You, wearing confidence like a feathered hat. Today you bring clever word choices and fine wine; I bring spring colors and all my moods. We chink glasses, offer toasts: I, to the firm firmness of your thighs; You, to my green eyes.
You plump pillows, remarking-- Kierkegaard was right about so many things;
No doubt, I say, as I watch the flicker of the cat's tail, sunlight streaking his amber coat. We nod and smile. I play shadow games, distracted by my twists and gnarls. But when the sky turns midnight blue you swear (and I believe) my curled paws are sequined slivers of the moon.