the silence, like fat-free ice cream,
ruined the possibility of great morning sex.
the dirty old snow kept falling, despite how i felt
about the separation of loved ones in camus's "the plague"

thought about an ex-girlfriend as i drooled discretely
on the rough surface of hardcover "lolita".
the thought of her settling for a simpler man
made me want to drink a whole bottle of cheap champaign
in celebration of female fortitude