if you are the ocean
then I am the mist
that kisses the morning
the way I’d want
to be kissed

if you are the ocean
then anchors aweigh
we'll sail through the evening
and on to the light
the daystar is dawning
we'll keep to the right

like Peter and Wendy
to Neverlands' door
we'll sail on forever
and touch every shore

if you are the ocean,
come wash me away
to some misty morning
and there we will play

if you are the ocean,
then sing me a song
of sailors and treasures
and places long gone

if you are the ocean
come wash me away
to a place, together we’ll
forever stay...

I was at my first meeting
with a facility Director.
I would be starting an audit
right after the meeting with her.
There was a little brown and white dog with lots of hair.
And very distinctive black eyebrows like Groucho Marx.
He rolled into the office
with a ball under his tummy.
Very cute.
The Director told me
he was the facility’s mascot.
His name was George.  
Even though my associate
was with me,
George seemed to prefer me.
He nosed the ball towards me.
I took it and rolled it across the room.
George ran to get it
and brought it back to me.
By straddling it and walking it to me.
The Director said he could do that all day.
I rolled it once more.
I ignored George
when he came back with the ball.
I explained to the Director what our role would be in the facility.
Mostly educational...
I felt George sniffing and licking my bare leg.
I looked down and George looked back at me suggestively.
And seemed to grin.
I turned my attention back to the meeting...
George started ******* my leg.
Looking up at me with adoration.
I reached down while still talking
and maintaining my composure,
tried to pull George off my leg.
He tried to take my fingers off with a snarl.
The Director picked up George and saying “Bad Dog” she placed him
on a chair behind her.
He looked at me and licked his lips.
We continued our conversation.
About 30 secs later my leg
was being molested again
with even more vigor.
And wanton disregard for anyone listening, he started to moan.
The Director seemed to get upset.
Finally!
She yelled his name.
In complete mutiny he just ****** faster.
She picked him up.
I asked if he could be taken out of the room and the door closed.
She said no,
because the dog needed to learn the rules.
My associate’s shoulders were held
very rigid, holding back her laughter.
George was placed right back on the chair.
As soon as the Director sat back down George flipped over
and gave me a look at his “package”
And wiggled his brows again.
This time including a definite canine grin. The gleam in his eyes was pure ****.
I knew he wasn’t done yet.
At this point I, who was supposed
to be running the meeting,
was totally preoccupied
with the little *****.
I gave him my most menacing look.
He seemed to find it arousing.
His eyes made a promise
that I refused to give in to.
George the molester put his head
down on his paws and with limpid eyes watched me without blinking.  
I finally began to participate in the conversation.
My legs and feet tucked under the chair
I was sitting in.
George got off the chair and crept
toward me, almost on his belly.
He got to my side and  disappeared under the desk I was sitting in front of.  
That was ok.
I felt my legs were safe.
Without warning I felt his tongue
gently licking my ankles.  
He had obviously decided
that foreplay was needed.
I tried to ignore it
but he was rolling his tongue
around my ankles seductively
with a couple of swipes up my leg.
I kicked him and saw the Director wince.
I gave up and gave a leg to George.
The little *******.
I never went to that facility again.
I assigned it to an associate
and she never had problems with George.
People at my office sent me photos of dogs posed suggestively.
A lot of dogs.
Jerks.
 Aug 22 Keith W Fletcher
jus
what other objects do you have,
to turn them into metaphors
that profess
your affections for me?
do not give me flowers,
or anything that exists in nature.
keep away the comparisons from seas,
the sun, and anything in between.
i have heard them all from past lovers,
& they all left me in time.
I see you.
With your heart of stone
I see you
With your gilded mask
I see you
With your diamond tears
I see you
With your blazing tongue
I see you
With your glass smiles
I see you
With your empty eyes
I see you
With your fragile hands
I see you
With your broken lies
I see you
With your stooped shoulders
I see you.
Everything you are,
Everything you are not.
I see you
And I care.
I see you, because you are like me.
I'm tired but I can't sleep
I'm hungry but I can't eat
I'm sad but I can't frown
I'm lonely but I can't speak
I'll make the oceans sing
Your name and kiss the
Ivory sands with love
Not yet bittered by
The salt that runs
Deep in the weeping
Blue beauty
That rumbles under
My striking thunder
sitting underneath the stairs, i realized suddenly:
i could die here.

i could die here,
and would anyone know?
i could die here, under the ***** staircase,
and nothing would change.

a friend of mine came for me eventually;

someone i don't know too well,
but well enough.

and she squeezed my hand and told me,
"you're not alone."

as my breathing grew ragged and my chest constricted and my eyes ached, i belatedly realized that was the most terrifying prospect of all.
only thing worse than feeling alone is knowing that so many others feel alone... hope everyone out there is feeling loved.
i can’t remember a time before i wasn’t caught
in the pearly whites of your canines, or an era
when i wasn’t perforated apart by your cannonballs,
shot down by the bullets of the glistening emeralds
you call your eyes.

i can’t remember a time when my poems
wasn't dedicated to memorising every detail
of your raven eyelashes curving to the sky,
or how the warmth of your palms transcend
the coldness i tolerated in my heart.

i can’t remember a time when i didn’t
have something to lose, and i think that started
when your honey-lidded gaze fall on me in the
middle of a crowded room with too much sound,
but i can still hear the ‘i love you’.

i can’t remember a time when you used to be static
-pure background noise, irrelevant, unnoticed
after all, doesn’t it drive you crazy how much
someone could mean to you?
at first, they’re a whisper in the dark and suddenly-

(boom!)
Next page