I miss those
early morning runs
crosstown
over to kiss
your pretty little face.
Do you remember?
I'd tap lightly on your door
& you'd let me in.
There was never any fighting
our hot moments,
we were always
ready
to sin
& sin we did,
all over the place.

Those squishy sounds
we made
undercover,
the smacking wet ones
with your
forceful commands
& the real moans
& whispering sighs
were enough
to keep me high
on your list
of morning lovers.

I couldn't resist you,
you'd insist I stay
until the sunrise
& usually I did,
gazing at the eyes
I truly miss
because you
moved away.

I shout your name into
the wind and
like a cool, rolling breeze
at the nape of my neck,
yours returns.

Milka  wanted
to have ***
in the hay barn

but she feared
the rats and mice
or her father

finding out
and tanning
her backside

the colour
of sunset
so we went

to the cinema
and saw Elvis
with jangling guitar

and swinging hips
and after
we went  

to the park
and sat
on a bench

and watched
the ducks swim
but the hay barn

would have been better
despite the rats
or mice

or the tanned
backside
the colour

of sunset
she said
I bet.

Some souls were built for torture
    still I see beauty

The magic released from your fingertips purr like spikey legs of a cricket, and although the pitch can be quite much, at least it fills the defeaning silence. And that's better than nothing.
It's everything compared to nothing

See, it's a different type of suffering.
As cardinal as the cardinals sing,
sound still sounds more radiant from your mouth; light as a cloud and tempting as the devil's cake, but it's much too **** loud for this headache.

Just as a hummingbird you urge each redundant peck deeper, and with it comes a blatant crooked creek. It's such a lovely repeat to wake up to, but the minute reality sets in I just want to shake you and retreat back to sleep so sound.
Retreat back to sound as sleep.

My cloudy head floats peeking at your ground,
and I can't make up my mind when your earth is bringing it down.

My brain is jumping rope with my responsibilities
my heart is putting pins on my seat
and my words are thumbing their nose
high as a kite with a *** addiction
laughing like it’s all I have to go on
I just put my sunglasses on
so the drive thru cashier
doesn’t see the glassy red mischief
taking a selfie with the planet
keeping in touch with my unhealthy habits
I’m not chasing
***** that
I’m riding the rabbit
excuse me sir,
but could I trouble you for the time
all I’m asking for is a few more hours
to play hide and seek with my inner child
and tickle the monsters under my bed
the voice in my head is off on tour
so the mice are playing cat
prowling the alleys of recess city
to find that fine feline
who tells me she’s a dog person
TV made my couch a dime piece
music made me see things differently
and writing gave me a false sense of invulnerability
so I write another poem
pen another cry for validation
told my mamma I’m shooting for the moon
but he’s one crafty *******
and my water pistol is full of bourbon
not sure if I’m crazy or sane
not sure if I’m playing the game
or riding a train to arrested development
but let’s get a cup of coffee
and debate waking up before noon