Is there a difference between/

romantic and obscene?/

Hypnotic and erotic?/

Serene and clean?/

Poetically U’ll c/

a fine line falls/

between them all./

It’s your call.

What would you like/

from me tonight?/

And how?

and when?/

How about… now?/

Hard?/

 or soft?

Rapid?/

Or slow?/

It doesn’t really matter/

which way I go/

as long as you request/

what you like best.

If his kiss was not/
so blissful, I could see you/
hot-tubbing with me!

Ear ring and t-shirt/

left better memories than/

leftover stirfry.

I was wondering,/
as she was wandering, if/
she could text from Mex.

Thoughts of her
Like coffee, rich and pure
Flow through my veins,
And activate my brain.

She’s not a java bean
Grown high in Columbian mountains
But a living, breathing human being
Who opens my creative fountains.

I don’t need to get in line and stand
At a counter as a barista perspires
And order “Americana, double skinny, grande”
To be energized and inspired.

Her being physically close isn’t even required
To get my brain’s synapses connected and fired.

You are, I think, the only one
Whom I’ve arisen early for.
The only desired, anticipated woman
Who’s got me up early and out the door.

You weren’t there by my side
When I walked through the frosted glade;
When I summoned the courage and went outside:
(If you were near me, I would have stayed.)

But the promise of our future meeting
Was what got me up and going.
Anticipating our afternoon greeting
was what got my juices flowing.

O’er eastern mountains the morning sun comes up.
Because of you I’ve risen without needing a cup.

Fantasies of you/
get me through a very long ,/
boring solo drive.

OR
boring solo night.

I thot phoned German goo/
would serve U/
well and do/
what U wanted it 2./

With government restrictions,/
I c no contradiction,/
but rather just us/
being cautious!

New Year’s Eve I danced with a friend’s granddaughter — who was in the final, exhausting stages of hospital-phase chemotherapy. We rocked the house! I think it may have been the best New Year’s Eve dance I ever have had… and I wrote this about her a few days later.

The sick that gives her/
a shiny moon head cant kill/
the light in her eyes.

PS: She’s 5 years old.