crow’s feet hustle with poor timing
beneath her tired blue eyes
to the beat of "I got you babe"
by Sonny and Cher
her husband's secret favorite CD
he insisted on blasting
at volume to frighten the cat
loosen grit between nauseating
green kitchen tiles
and infuriate the neighbors
rattling her frayed nerves
like the ice cubes pinging
salted glass fish bowls
disguised as respectable vestibules
to receive another round
of margaritas
for her unsuspecting husband
and his drunk brother
with tequila bought in Cozumel
along with condoms
five weeks before the rabbit died
just like Sonny
Adding your comment:
Way after Sonny, mind you. Actually, it died a couple weeks ago. I still miss that rabbit.
