sensual

why she’s so intoxicating
he can’t really understand;
she is here, and he’s a servant
waiting for her next command –

but that’s not the game they’re playing.
their game is much simpler still —
she desires to be wanted,
and he wants her with a will

but his want is tempered slightly
by a few scruples of his:
he cannot take their love lightly,
for to him, she precious is

now so open, so inviting –
it’s an offer he’ll soon take:
sensual dessert for two, with
love, the icing on
the cake

The Other Side of It

I was an experiment.

My ‘feeling hurt’ has made you quite defensive,
You’re angry that I fell in love with you;
I had no right, because you never loved me,
I realize all that now. But still, it’s true

That I must grieve a dream that only I had,
And grow hot in the foolishness I feel;
To know that what I came to hope and cherish
Was nothing in your eyes,
And never
Real

Kitchen Breakaway

That morning, we awoke,
And I remember: runners on the beach,
And there was music, somewhere,
Through the open window,
As we munched our toast,
And drank our drinks in silence.

“What will you do?” I asked,
As though I hadn’t several times before,
And you said, “I arrive in Dallas
Around 6, I think, and then
It’s off to school. The program starts at 8.”

Twenty minutes later,
On the shell driveway,
We said a quite banal goodbye,
Me with my duffel bag,
And my old car was soon back on
The shoreline road, for 23 miles until,
I got back to the Interstate.

A breakup is like a knockout punch:
But this was more like
Us calling off the fight because
You had a better offer out-of-town,
And me understanding, because
It made sense for business.

Of all the mornings we’d spent in that kitchen
The one I remember best is me eating dry toast
And drinking a flat Dr Pepper
And wishing the runners on the beach

Had taken me with them

Lessons for Men #7(a)

So boys: our lesson for today
Is knowing what to do
When you know she has wants and needs
But tells you, “not with you”

It hurts. It’s like an open slap.
But one you have to take –
We can’t birth kids, so we’ve this one
Small sacrifice to make

And that’s to learn to walk away.
You might not think it’s fair:
But women don’t get what they want
All times and everywhere –

Nobody does: That’s how it goes.
We do the best we can;
Just walk away, your head held high
And learn to be
A man

Roni’s Engagement

She called to tell me that she was engaged –
Me, dating some love spasm at the time –
Who I brought with me to meet them for drinks
Which I think were Coronas – yes – with lime

And she still looked a perfect movie star
And so did he, if truth, in fact, be told;
They were so good together: he was kind.
And I was happy for the ring of gold

She wore now on her finger as a sign
That she with him would now forever stay.
A thing I thought unlikely at the time,
Although they’re still together to this day

It’s funny: I write poems all the time.
I dredge these stories up from memory:
And find sometimes I didn’t know my heart
Until I write these down in poetry

We’d flirted with each other, and had tested
The waters of erotic friendliness;
When that part of our friendship was abandoned
I found, I didn’t love her any less

I loved her more as friends; for she was regal,
And meant for kindness as a life reward:
And she was happy now – I know she still is –
With someone who loved her
Who she
Adored

Roni

Roni

When Roni had me pick her up,
I almost lost my mind:
A lonely dude at twenty-three
The restless dating kind

We got dressed up to go to see
The local symphony;
Italian dinner, wine, and then
A drive down by the sea

She touched my face with both her hands
And I’m sure it went scarlet:
If this had been a movie script
She’d be the stunning starlet

And I, the semi-funny schlump
Who somehow gets the girl:
But we weren’t in a movie script
And that was not our world

Instead, we chatted in the dark
Beside the waters glowing;
I’d brush the hair back from her face
So long and brown and flowing

And I don’t know that she could know
Just what that was for me;
For her, some dating throwaway,
For me, a memory

Of moonlight and of Roni
All alone out very late:
As we fogged up the windows,
Just two people, on a date