May 26th, 2010


And tonight's poem by popular demand a bit more cheerful, if mildly reprehensible.


I'd like to meet the girls I fuck in Dream
The ones with leather dresses most of all
who grope me in cafes and lick ice cream
between my breasts. I really wish they'd call.

I'd like to meet the older, wiser, cool
white trenchcoat wearing gumshoe sipping gin
who sometimes shows. For her, I'd be a fool
for love, wild romance my besetting sin.

She could investigate me just as much
as she would like. But usually I wake
as lips stroke tongue. I'd like to stay in touch,
perhaps do brunch, if some of them could make

it to the daylight world where I forget
these evanescing cuties that I've met.