You come out of the master bedroom closet <br />in the daintiest of nighties <br />I do all the talking as we <br />lay down on the bed <br />I whisper sweet nothingness <br />into your unhearing ears <br />I fill you with my love and <br />you make squeaking sounds <br /> <br />I would offer you a post-consummatory cigarette <br />but I fear you might melt <br /> <br />I rinse you out <br />I deflate you <br /> <br />I stick you back in the closet... <br />next to the air pump<br /><br />Jeffrey Philip Clegg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rubber-soul/
