a woman kills a man
her body writes seduction
"at least i don't need coffee
    to get it up"

it the proverbial wits ending of war
and then .......death sexed it's way back into little italy
my love of arabic blends of taste
in my lacking of art, poetry commends me
too little and i walk, for civil rights are importent
and an impotent spigots blend of labor
in an irishman's boil, gives rome to me