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