Fresh cut grass, hides the stink of <br />Hot asphalt at the street café, where <br />Four years earlier, I met Jennifer <br />Adjusting her bra, when no one saw <br /> <br />Except, I can remember, the first <br />Thoughts of her were of Odessa, so <br />Different, yet their underwear <br />Was the same - black, lace <br />Too tight, flesh protruding. <br /> <br />I loved Jennifer in spasms, that she <br />Never appreciated the champagne or <br />Flowers, just sex and lingerie <br />In brown envelopes she sent <br />Polaroids from time to time <br />Thoughts still come, while I am <br />Kissing Katherine smelling <br />Fresh cut grass at the <br />Street café, reminded of <br />Jennifer who reminded me <br />Of Odessa. <br /> <br />The cycle, <br />Continues.<br /><br />Byron Headrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fresh-cut-grass/
