the small dog
attached to the long lead
has a tail that is blurred
with happiness
as he wanders through
the market village
tongue lolling
nose questing the air
for the myriad of  scents
he is happy curiosity
in a brindle coat

i watch amused at his vigour
as i drink from an enamel mug
holding a wonderful local bean coffee
eat warm coconut mango muffins
and ponder the purchase
of some artisan glass jewllery

my boys having scoffed their muffins
are off to see the woodworkers
the golden child hoping
to add to his collection
of wooden puzzles
his father to chat with
other lovers of woodgrains

we will meet later
after i have bought, applebox honey
collected by dave the beekeeper
portabella mushrooms the size of saucers,
to make stuffed fetta mushies for dinner
and all the other green and organic vege
i can find.  some prawns and a mud crab.
lunch tomorrow,  olive bread, olive tappenade
stuffed olives, some goodies for the biccie tin

and some of these coffee beans....

the dog raises it's leg against the canvas
of the tent down the pathway
before carrying on....
oblivious

It was the place where I'd step from the train
and the sea air bouyed and supported me.
It felt just right. No sense of human drain
and exploitation. There I could just be.

Then I thought about it: About the men
so so beautiful and sparkling who chose
other girls. About the sweet fishermen,
surfers, beekeepers, gardeners, those

cool cafe workers, the greenie coop
community, musos, artists, weavers,
woodworkers and keepers of chicken coops.
Reality checks sometimes find dreamers.

Of all those lovely people I admired
not one reached out to teach me anything.

with Barb Black née Beebee
to help set the ghost
of little ***** Brandt free
(a non German, but germane fellow  
courtesy Craigslist classified
personals of mine invitee
she replied, I took liberty
to Google her first and last name,
and risked calling mentioning,
she qualified as lucky nominee
meaning yours truly hanker
for a barenaked lady
to indulge libidinal ******* spree,
(ahem - no pun intended)
in layman's terms to make whoopie!

Years ago, an outing
with paramour went awry
lower gastrointestinal system
of the down did not comply
dear reader let these lines hopefully edify
and entertain courtesy
garden variety generic guy,
who strives to tickle your fancy
to jollify cause yours truly
tries humor that's no lie
and if receptive

to give feedback please notify
author of these words
who in actuality
counts himself a private-eye.
Picture the opening scene
Cumberland Farms -
in Coatesville, Pennsylvania,
the paramour and I purchase lunch;
she bought the two
Italian hoagies and drinks,
one for me and the other for her.

Upon arriving back
at boudoir place of courtesan,
we inherently, immediately,
got down to monkey business;
each of us carefully unwrapped
our respective submarine;
Between mouthfuls of deli meat and cheese,
(the latter a substance that triggered
nascent irritable bowel syndrome),
I suppressed grimaces of abdominal agony,
which ****** contortions overrode attempts
at non verbal foreplay.

The rapid fire acting power of dairy product
moved bowels of mine faster than
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Despite frequent record breaking
sprints to the bathroom
nothing would forsake golden opportunity
to indulge philandering bacchanalian adultery.

****** ******* the farthest
thought in my mind,
yet I ignored queasiness,
and feigned interest,
no matter intuition
vis a vis gurgly tummy
signaled warning against
engaging in frolicsome escapade,
nevertheless Casanova wannabe
succumbed to arrange himself
in concert with his mistress
two times the ninth highest prime number.

Woody pecker of mine
(a fine specimen male ***** she
highly touted, praised, and notated
courtesy the woman, whose presence
I honorably graced)
perhaps interpreted and intimated
as a fervent desire to rut
(despite lady of the night
having undergone tubal ligation
years before our initial close encounters

of the illicit kind took place
at Evansburg Park,
where after at least
a decade of being celibate,
I experienced premature *******
and soiled my underwear,
which super seminal glue
seals a stronger bond than
another tried and true
rigged with mortise and tenon.

A mortise and tenon joint connects
two pieces of wood or other material.

Woodworkers around the world used it
for thousands of years
to join pieces of wood,
mainly when the adjoining pieces
connect at right angles.
Mortise and tenon joints count as strong
and stable joints used in many projects.

Now lemme loop back
to aforementioned plight
to sorry state of affairs
that found me plagued
with an overactive
internal **** sphincter (IAS)
and external **** sphincter (EAS);

The internal **** sphincter (IAS)
forms the innermost muscular layer
of the **** canal and is a continuation
of the circular muscle of the ******
and ends with a pronounced rounded edge
1 to 1.5 cm caudal to the dentate line
and slightly cranial to the terminus
of the external **** sphincter (EAS).