Thoughts of then when days were slow
When young boys beards refused to grow,
When girls were cute with big round eyes
And innocence was no surprise.
When that old grocer rearranged
To slip you extra…plus the change,
When ten bucks spent would purchase gas
And guarantee the trip plus cash.
And postmen…how they never missed
Despite those storms and gales that ******.
And sun that shone with heat that earned
That golden tan which never burned,
Sweet songs were sung with golden voice
When radio was ours by choice.
Ripe apricots, right off the tree
Made such a juicy mess of me,
And apple pie was Sunday’s best
When first those chores had passed the test.
People nodded passing bye
And chose to smile and meet the eye.

Thoughts of then when days were slow
When young boys beards just wouldn’t grow.

Thoughts of then with honest grace
When dignity depicted pace,
Where simple pleasures held the key
For a kinder… happiness to be.

M.

She makes him sit and unbuttons his shirt
Makes him lie back and wets his hair, then
Her hands massage shampoo into his scalp
She is irresistible, every moment etched on
His brain, her sensuous touch, an incredibly
Close feeling, as she washes his hair, this is
More beautiful than breath, more loving than
***, more electric than near, more perfect
Than curling up, more intimate than naked.

Yo estaba muy
cerca de la muerte hoy,
en el camino a Cochabamba.
Las "muchas" líneas de cruces tristes,
ninguna de ellas previsto para morir.
¿Cómo puede usted saber?
¿Cómo saber?
¿Cuándo?
Yo vivo cada día
como si fuera mi último.
Así que
cuándo
llegue
al final
del camino,
deseos incumplidos,
no me atormentarán
en la vida próxima, si hay una.