When i first moved in
all i was to hear
was,
Ladies don’t drink out of the toilet.
Ladies don’t drink out of the toilet!
Come on now,
ladies don’t drink out of the toilet.,
and YOU are a Lady.

The things we do,
how we acquiesce,
the concessions we make,
to keep the gravy train rolling,
moving along.

A place to bunk,
a soft pillow for your head.

So we do.

The bunkmate stays so happy,
smiling &
relaxed,
and finally gets
off of your back.

The strapping young lad & the manly cowboy
went out for a brew.
"i'd like to go camping with you."

"this ain't no brokeback mountian,
if that's on which yew were a countin'."

"no worries mate,
really, i wasn't looking for a date!"

hey you,
yes you,
the strapping young lad,
with that leaf blower resting
on that shoulder pad.

why don’t you use a rake?
your hearing that blower
soon will take.

what will you do when  
alone in a room,
with that sweet lass,
when she’s moaning
as you are caressing
her beautiful ***?

your hearing so slight,
you can’t quite catch,  
the growing of her subtle delight.

you wouldn’t heed the warning,
now you can't hear her moaning.

now you are left wishing
how much you
should have,
could have,
used that silent broom.

instead of that machine,
that machine of  
your keen hearing’s
final & lasting doom.

20,
and face so smooth,
so new.
nary a line,
nary a mark.

blank and young.
an unwritten life.
so much more,
soon to come.

50, and wiser,
the years go by.
interesting trails,
travel the face.

telling of experiences,
telling of a life,
rich with joy,
rich with strife.

learning to steep,
in every moment.
however it appears,
for that shall too,
soon disappear.

studying the faces,
of myriad people,
so many passing by.

the life of each,
creating landscapes unique,
in skin and bone
and eyes and teeth.

cracks and crevices,
spots and colors,
what an,
oh so,
interesting
life.

Owl hooting outside.
Puppy panting inside.
Another deliciously
quiet, peaceful, dark night.

trodding through trees,
Mother Earth
fresh and sweet,
twice this season,
twice so recent.

stumbled upon,
on the floor of the woods,
a pair of perfect wings,
not a feather disturbed.
only the very center,
the body,
not there.

a spine cleaned bare,
remained right there,
next to the
wings
of the penultimate one.

only silent space,
lying between,
each wing,
between  
each one.

oh what mysteries surround,
lying around,
not making a sound.
only for those who wander
and look,
and,
look and,
wander around.

"don't get old,"
whispered she.
"my love, my friend, my life."
"stay with me."

"i'm gonna miss you so, when you are gone."
slow tear tracing down,
arms wrapped tight,
kissing her with all her might.