a little like Gypsy Rose Lee

Hard music, soft covers, bitter sweet
words that are just said to be there,
sharing the not-enough-for-me blanket
and just how did this night start out?
Music turned up high, like us, and it
was maybe Yeah Yeah Yeahs,
making our yeah-yeah-yeahs as I dance
to the music (even though I can't)
but it doesn't matter in this watercolor
or maybe it is called an abstract.
One button down, seven to go
as I smile my crooked smile, one side
more than the other and you laugh,
bitter sweet or is it just bitter?
Unzip, slow-down, those tight jeans
that I know you can't get enough of
and I ain't no Gypsy Rose Lee,
dancing my striptease on broadway.
Now the mundane becomes wild
like us, pulled together with those
soft not-enough-for-me sheets
not even touching us with the music
lost in the background but
the whatever-we-took tonight
is finally wearing off and you fall
asleep just as the music stops
and everything surreal on my wall
seems to be seeping into my room
and I am still awake, wide awake,
with the silence laughing at me,
whispering "oh-gee-you're-so-dirty"
and I walk to my window, frosty
but not the snowman, and I
pull out my cherry cigarette,
look down at the silence and the city
lights still below me, with their own
personal striptease-girls-you-know
and I blow out the smoke, maybe
it could be like Gypsy Rose Lee
and I whisper in this room filled up
with sweat and sweet and more
sweat that sticks to my breath,
"love can damage your health."