my lady’s rockin; her eyes open wide.
she walks towards me, pulsing her body
my lady smiles like she’s got something to hide.

we kiss so long I forget which tongue is mine…
teasin me, she backs up and takes a swig.
drops the last word, smile cocked to the side.

she fronts tough, much too slow to confide.
she plays aloof, yet all her actions scream, LOVE
my lady smiles like she’s got something to hide.

pouring *** and juice, here comes the Jekyll and Hyde…
once her double Caribou Lou’s kicked in
she’ll drop that last word, **** her fist to the side.

starts ragin jealous, that’s how we came untied.

“baby, love is the opposite of control,” I say.
so then my lady smiles like she’s got something to hide
she drops the last word, ego cocked to the side

my box of journals caught fire

memories hold heat, see
above the box spring and mattress
I lay lit by your memory
back to the sheets
head slightly off the bed
then I dropped a thought of you.
just a small mental snap;
the curve of your back…
that’s the only kindling our heat needed to sizzle
now I’m drenched in fire~

Knolls of clothing dot the rug, a
rainbow of empty plastic hangers
sway with every pass.  Hot rollers
get a little hotter, round and rectangle
compacts litter the counter, waiting to
give her a face to face the world. 
 
She picks up things and puts them down,
making decisions and easily changing her
mind.  A timid little queen of a tiny kingdom,
running her life within the walls of her
walk-in, avoiding the subjection that waits
outside the closet door.

I do not know your name,
only know that you are a
small drop of water bearing
an iota of life, and that we are
the same, our shoulders
momentarily blending into
each other as we flow

That knowledge is enough
to move a river.

How could one not crave
the kind of truth that makes
trust skip a beat
and fall
amidst wisteria storms
when the rageful season
swarms
and sneers, shamelessly
infesting the senses?

Connections are all that matter to me in this life.
Those I’ve loved are reeds that I weave into my bones
to hold me up on those days on which I spring holes.
Amazed! I’ve had the pleasure to intimately know
many beautiful souls~

minutes grow heavy
plump with promise
late spring blues packed in tight
weighted with white sands
burnished by winds
that drift from there,
just there, beyond that line
bursting now to color
then fading to night
momentary demarcation
where sight becomes vision
and longing drifts hungrily towards
the ever-desired elusive perfect summer