Guilty
Pleasure
Ralph is the kind of man
who could enter a room
and make Alice burn.
When he smiles,
she feels him under her skin,
imagines his mouth upon her.
Behaves the opposite of her
normal, quiet demeanor.
Transforms into
a wanton, red-nailed siren
wearing something
short and tight
without bra or panties.
Someone wild enough
to
dance barefoot upon the bar,
or slide beneath a table
to pleasure him
like an X rated movie.
Alice wonders if he can
see the signs,
guess the storm
he stirs up inside her.
Grumpy Old Men
I can hear sneezing, snorting, loud griping and groaning
long before an opening between yuccas permits me to see
three geriatric seals sprawled atop stony
outcroppings.
On the next rock, dark terns unwillingly listen
to a daily litany of moaning geezer complaints
from this trio of chubby curmudgeons.
The splash of incoming tide soaks and disturbs them.
They whine, grumble about what aches, no longer works,
how they used to command respect; now nobody loves them.
Love Madness
It’s after ten
and you’re
working
the early shift
but you open the door
anyway
when you see him
smiling and standing
outside.
Your skin
is ready for his hands
and mouth before he
even crosses the threshold.
The sheets begin singing
and the cold beer
you always keep
in case he comes
pours itself
in his favorite
glass.
He’s one of those lovers
you know can’t possibly
be good for you.
But it doesn’t matter
because it’s August
over a hundred degrees
and he makes
your legs melt.
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