Love & London
A love poem:
My love done flew away. I had something
and semi set it free. If it comes back I won't
keep it...it's on loaner from the owner. My man;
London pulled him over the sea.
Now he has to buy tight running pants. Maybe not
today, but he can't look like an old fart jogging
through the park. Some girl with teeth better than
I dreamed, might see his fashion indescretion and
look at him with a question in her eyes. Why? But, tight
around his package and his thighs? Sigh. Maybe
there's something in between.
Spring. And summer. I wonder how I can get through
without his touch, and his bedtime routine. Brush, floss,
Listerine even if he's dead on his feet. Hygiene in his
sleep. Maybe it's a sin, but I sleep with...