Long trip, aint it?
from your finger
to my lips, glide
down my chin and
between my
****
(my knees are screaming
for you but darling, lets
not rush so
ah, for chrissakes,
he forgot my
hips
YOU are the king
of tomorrow I am
nothing but leftover
To Current Occupant
unread
(I stand on my porch
searching the horizon
for your headlights
the sound of a
Volkswagen
anything
I am the queen
of yesterday, at least
read my obit- I was
a well known poet)
almost