A FERAL BRUNETTE BLUR

She ambushes me on the couch,
laughing, spinning,
a feral brunette blur
I’ve managed to catch.

The stalking wasn’t easy,
nor was the move
to captivity.

Domestication will be brutal.

She throws things.
Shoes.  
Tennis rackets.
Spaghetti.
Wine.
But I know she loves me
and wants to stay.

Her diet is vegan,
so I’m learning to adapt.
Fresh produce.
Wild rice.
Mashed potatoes without pork chops.
It’s a big buildup
that never quite delivers.

I sneak out for cheeseburgers.

Tender meat
between my lips,
like her immaculate thigh
pressing down,
gentle but firm.

She roams,
but never far.
I pet her in the dark,
whispering promises
that seem to tame.