Blurred by too much rum and too little cola. <br />His eyes roll out the red carpet onto his cheeks <br />just beyond the reach of his dehydrated tongue; hours <br />of cunnilingus had left him thirstier than a dried <br />up well in Ethiopia; Sore between the ears <br />he struggles to make his thoughts coherent <br />keys the front door and enters the kitchen <br />where he pours <br />another hair of the beast that ate his brain. <br />Returning from the scene of his latest crime <br />he looks at her lying there asleep in their bed, <br />with her bare breast exposed and looking <br />every bit as good as she did the day he married her. <br />Realizing....what a fool he's been, he gently strokes <br />her hair from her sleepy eyes and whispers <br />his promise to never again stray... <br />She silently purrs....at the scent of fresh fish on his breath... <br /> <br />2008 © T Sheridan<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-he-doesn-t-know-won-t-hurt-him-either/
