Slip Alley XV

Eric stands
under a yawning street lamp,
red beard glinting
with dark lights.

He has her number now,
the apartment building beckons,
ghostly birches wave a welcome.

He flies up the stairs,
finds the right door,
takes out his pick lock,
turns the reluctant barrels
whispering, “come to Daddy”.
Finally, a satisfying click.

The door swings open,
the flat is bare, inconvenient
witness gone, Eric swears
about bestial intercourse,
heads for home.

In his letterbox, he finds
a gilt edged envelope,
inside a note
smelling of violets,
a name, address
and photograph – same offer
as before.

Offered for

Poetics ~ It’s a matter of Choice..