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Aaron Rosenberg Jan 2015
Lisas and Cheryls in halter tops walk the
Halls of Stoughton High full
Throttle, coiffed fleece fiercely feathered,
Tonys and Tims trawling in tow, toting

Tims and Tonys slip
Slyly away, skip shop, talk
****, **** a doob behind
Bob’s Baitshop’s garbage dunes, tunes of
Geils and Seeger and Stones, applaud
Lisas and Cheryls, laud deserving
Donnas and Dianes (but dude, don’t
Let on!)

A solitary Tony takes to one shapely
Cheryl’s sultry swagger, staggers, blathers
His rathers, turning her hair’s fair feathers
A-flair, she helping his hand higher up her hip, her
Cup, her concupiscent luscious lower lemon-lacquered lip, he agog, a *****
Dog with a bone.  And a libidinous loner
Lisa prefers a particular turgid Tim, digs
His Doors tee tucked
In to tight tan cords, affords
Herself a longer linger as his fingers
Dangle, thick thumbs hooked in belt. Looked at,
Felt, ***** his hip, flips a nod, draws a
Sneer, paws her rear, she his
Haunch, he steady and
Staunch, Steady and
Not gonna
Thaws the sneer
Right there.
High gears it outta here.
Aaron Rosenberg Jan 2015
Lifetime warranty spiked above the headboard –
Pounded, driven in.
A ****** memento for spellbound comfort.
For beleaguered convenience, every vindication.

From the reliquary a
Prefect draws Scrabble squares:
Transgressions divined in crossword.
Taking them on, like Him, and
Glaring, feeding them back to you, a
Beguiling grin:
Absolving all.

Not quite the mother, at least
Present to explain the
Pain she bears for you.

Not Santa, not Tooth Fairy,
Unworthy of the wall.

The Easter Bunny,
Harebrained scheme,
Foot hacked clean at absurdity’s altar, keeps
                     and suffering
                                  and suffering.

But you do clutch, and do not falter.

******, magical pretense,
Lurid, laudable as a
Hotdog on a stick, and just as

Snake oil, tendrils crossing paths in a
Greasy Baptismal pool,
Soliciting the stranglehold.

No grace; just a
Wolf and a
Guess which you are.

— The End —