- Non-Erotic Poetry
- All Eight Gears
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It’s Saturday morning
and here I reside
thinking of ways
to go for a ride,
A fast unicycle
or slow Lamborghini
thinking of her
in her bikini,
That beach, south of Rio
when we were there
both of us sporting
slicked back hair,
Casual disregard
for all of the facts
living on beers and
free bar snacks,
From there we went
our different directions
voted alone in
different elections,
Swore we’d get back
together, someday
for ‘old time’s sake’
and a chance to play,
That game we pursued
that nobody won
naked and free in
Brazilian sun,
That Lamborghini
all eight of her gears
all our sins
and all our fears …
- COMMENTS
