- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Red Canoe 02
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It seems like a year
Amy sauntered end swinging
Tale wagging
Still dripping
My droppings
her longings
our tears
shared, scarred and slicing.
The scab of smiles
Long legged from the nights
alone found together,
again in sun,
below moon of the month specials
or ignored during the drought
during wet things called blessed drops
I remember the smell and dust dance
the radio fights followed by hiss
the avoidance of his mention
his possessions
decisions about THE life
her ownership
this summer
breaths of both
got bothered
and no one died
