When Buttons Pop
for D.B.A.

how could I have failed
with all of my fingers
to indent even one of your buttons
your piano keys or the keys
upon your typewriter

how could I have failed to play
a single note or chord, to drop your draws,
to expose you,
to reveal your true identity

you lie to say it is not you at all
that I have written about
when every bit of it, of all I've written
is of you, is your portrait actually

you go to church
you suggest I've gotten it all wrong

you almost convinced me
that all I've written is fiction
but it isn't, you know it is not

wanted to get words in
about your two bare breasts
about your two breasts nipples

written of your pussy often
but seldom about your breasts
never about
licking or kissing or sucking them


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:54 a.m. 20.11.10