Green and Busy (day 1241)

It’s bewildering how all the
Little kids are dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam.
– And coincidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity, the kids,
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to an ecstatic culminations of sorts.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.

Breakfast In The Morning Panties (day 716)

We met up for drinks, it had been a long time coming
You with your crippling smile sucking margaritas through a straw
Tattoos in pink running up and down your arms
Crop top and flamboyant sunglasses
I could see it in her eyes, written up and down and in
Staring me right back, inviting me
We flirted unceasingly, enjoying the atmosphere of the joint
Back and forth about life, love, sex, and making a difference
Pushing into regions normally reserved for intimates
But we were intimates, we had already been over that line
Flushing out the spinning daisies with deep breaths and dilated pupils
Desire spoken through eyes
“Want to get out of here?” were my words
We were in a big facility, one with public washrooms
“Meet back here” we both demanded
No arguing; arousal and a full bladder don’t mix
By this time we understood the page we were on
I was out before she was, I started wandering
I looked back and saw her peeking into the men’s washroom
Intentions written all over her tippy toes
From behind I wrapped my arms around her
Walking her into one of the classic stalls
She was already pulling at the waist of her pants
Smooth tight skin of a woman who exercises
Pulling at my pants too with unleashed passion
Normally, I can remember thinking, normally I catch my breath
But this state of elation wasn’t coming down
This hand down my pants wasn’t slowing down
I wanted to ask her how much she weighed after I easily lifted her
Back against the wall, legs wrapped around my hips
I was distracted with my head in her hands
She was biting my lower lip as power cursed through my veins
Hands cupped around her ass, her firm exercised ass
Easy to dig my fingernails into in my moment of pure passion
Euphoria, her’s and mine own
As passionate as our discussions earlier
Life, love, sex, and making a difference
We walked out of that public washroom hand in hand
All the way to her Eastside flat
I asked for her number with intention
Because she didn’t have to ask me to stay
I walked in like I owned the place
And expected breakfast in the morning panties

Summer Night (day 417)

Perhaps the clothes didn’t belong on your body
It was a sign that they should be thrown away
Tossed aside like a used banana peel

It was all I could do to stop myself from clawing at them
Ferocious like an ravenous wild animal

Practiced in the mirror many nights alone
That swagger that brought you to me was mesmerizing
Little things inside fit together like suspenders on tight pants

Something inside snapped loosening the grip on consciousness
Telling me slow but yelling at me loud

Slight smell of desire, tequila, on her lips
The night crawled like the lazy street lights
Of a mid summers midnight romp always feel like

Memories cursed through my veins when the sweat began to pour
Memories of a smell I can’t remember and a night I can’t forget

Breath that rolled out like a freight train
Synchronized with the wheels of motion stuck under our hearts
Whispering secrets into places that can’t hear a thing

Slipping into the nether region of things that last forever
Remembering that not all things good will last anyways

Out of The Cold (day 167)

Abound with joy she zipped up her pants
Wrapped the scarf one more time around
Before she braved the cold wall facing her

She stepped out the door into the brisk air
Cooly calm after the night whirled in her head
Like a heart worn, still spinning top

Anticipation in waiting, like the empty bowl
Full of surprises but still quite unready to expose
The vampires call now, late in the night

The steps jump faster, as joints stiffen against the cold
The bus .does. .not. .ever. come quick enough
Fucking transit, mumbled under her breath

As a lady, she smiles, ignoring the smirks
As a temptress she squirms, applauding the smiles
Alone she hurries, out of the cold