I Know a Place

My haunt, my sweet mistress,
paying you this afternoon,
to be cradled in your dark arms,
for some hours of distracted bliss.

We will never be normal, it cant work.
You are only concerned with money.
I am only concerned with comfort,
and so here we are again in the darkness.

Your story, always someone else's story,
casting shadows of light on your
blank faced, butter flavored Johns.
Next week, my love, another nine fifty.