Dancing with another man’s wife (with his permission) at the Winneconne Fin & Feather, I promised I would write her a poem about her incredible eyes behind her Sally Smart glasses, her California youth, her dancing moves, her wedge shoes with the tie-ups, .
Instead, after he argued with me that he wasn’t going to write or blog any of his writing (although his wife says he is a good writer), I ended up writing this for him.

I only hope/
the man who claims/
he can’t write/
learns his wife’s brain/
is her main/
eros organ/
and delight./

4 when it’s said and done,/
all a poet needs/
is an audience of 1.