Suddenly, this year, I want to **** everyone Or, more specifically, our friends; My best friend, his best friend Old friends New friends Friends I haven't seen for years. I think I must be lacking something But also, it is just about the ***. Because I'm thirty seven What if all my best encounters are behind me? What if the best lay of my life Is sitting next to me at a cafe Or trotting along beside me on a power walk? I don't want to get it on with strangers, enemies, colleagues, Or the good looking guy who makes my coffee at Starbucks Just friends Am I missing something Obvious to everybody else?
Second poem I've written this evening that makes me feel uncomfortable in my own skin