I'm sometimes asked with feigned surprise,
"You write poetry?"
"How Divine!
Give us a sample of your
favorite rhyme!"

But I know what they're thinking.
I see it in their eyes,
"What a waste of time."
"What a joke."
"Better hide the silver,
cuz these types are all broke."

Poetry doesn't pay the bills.
That part is so true.
But, don't deride my compulsion,
or my next hundred verses
will be about "you!"


~~~

I want to be immune
To the song that lures
Me to you.
The sensuous pull
That has me wanting,
Needing,
To be in your grasp,
Your hands tangled
In my hair,
Your teeth to my skin.
I want to be immune
To the hunger I feel
For your kiss,
The ache I feel
For your touch.
Because I need you,
So much it hurts.