WINE WITH THE MOON
I have no idea what the moon does
for a living.
But tonight,
on her time off,
she illuminates my darkness,
late afternoon
through twilight and
approaching dawn.
Cratered luminescence
lights my senses,
ignites my sensibilities.
I wish I was there,
or you here, hear?
But my obligations keep me here,
away from the quick mart with
its cigarettes and slurpies.
This glass needs time to breathe,
become smooth, velvety.
Tonight I dream of entangled limbs and
moonbeams.
DINNER DATE
She’s so far away,
right there across the table.
But man oh man I just dig her…
Languid eyes I could fall into for years,
skin that I long to graze
with trembling hand,
and a mind that stiffens my resolve.
I want to play in that brain,
and mess up her bed,
maybe both at the same time.
MISTAKEN IDENTITY
I remember coming home on the train.
After a field trip, I think I was nine.
The teacher was confused, because I said how much
I did not like Helen Keller.
What with her crazy hair, loud voice, and waving cigarette.
In fact she scared me a bit!
The teacher was bewildered, because I had mixed up
Helen Keller with Phyllis Diller.
Damn alliterations.
