Someone else is living my life…
someone taller, leaner, someone
who is dating angelic film actresses
that hang on his piston-like arms.
He’s living in my houses, too,
in South Beach and Malibu,
and throwing celebrity-laden parties
till the sun gropes its way overhead,
which is when he drives off in
my silver Mercedes SL500
to linger over a lazy breakfast
before jetting off to Cannes
to soak up the sun like a
sleek salamander asleep on the beach.
Which gives rise to the question:
Whose life am I living?
I had to read this a few times to get the gist of your "Misshapen" id.
ReplyDelete"to linger over a lazy breakfast" I like this line, but how did a salamander get into this fantasy??? You couldn't meet a topless babe on the beach???