The cold hard floor
Is our only comfort
A shoulder
Is our only place to cry
A drink for lone men
Is our only source of resolve in the midst
Of scrutiny
A smoke and joint
Is our only rest from life's roller coaster
A siesta and another drink
Some televised news to calm the edge
I need time to think, her face
Her *******, her hair, a cold bleached smile
That kisses my cheeks and warmly cries
On my shoulder as I let my emotions flow
Inside of her, an anguished moan
"Oh, Sire!"
She who is born of pleasant euphoria
Cries like the wind on a stormy night
Like she never has
I never saw her again after that sordid time
But, I remember her pleasantness
Her excitement along with her youthful exuberance
Her face, her hands, her warm smile
She was so many hues, emotions in one person
Contrasts that needed time to be understood
I almost lost myself in her
And she never lost herself in me
That's the loveless grace of a lady
Much like God who cares from a distance
Like a zephyr that glides from dew to dew
Granting us democracy of choice