Craig Kinsey "Deep Vermillion Rug"

It was down on Taft that I went to the place

where I had to return Mari's leather and lace

I opened the door and she was there on the floor

lying on a deep vermillion rug



I walked right past her and I never said a word

the window was open, it was august the third

I grabbed her tea pot and I boiled it up hot

and joined her on a deep vermillion rug



she was eating cracked wheat dipped in oil and herbs

her fingers made a figure eight and she never said a word

she shifted on her hips and as she brought it to her lips

a drop hit her deep vermillion rug



a breeze blew in from the street and it rustled her drapes

it carried the sent of crape myrtle and grapes

there ain't much to say when you while away a day

sitting on a deep vermillion rug