plastic cup in a plastic wrapper.

on the sink,
a plastic cup in a
plastic wrapper.

only the running water
is real.

touching your lips and
satiating a thirst,
caused by the heat
wafting up from a still
smoldering bed.

and it's all so surreal,
how we got here,
from there.

the plastic crinkles and
wakes me.
you take long slow swallows
from this,
a plastic cup that in
your hand,
seems more a sterling goblet.

you are so rich and relevant.

and I stand idly by,
your plastic princess
waiting to be unwrapped by you,
once more.



© 1999 Cher Ladd-Vuolo