- Non-Erotic Poetry
- in death
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I hover before the red puffy faces
the JUST LOVER shift of mourners
some are really wanting to pick their nose
some are itchy elsewhere laying foot atop foot
I am the ghost they came to say adieu to
I still have as long a tongue
measured by metric stick
there are so many pretty ladies
all in a row front and back
in dresses, oh God, dresses
sobbing the sweet tears that fall
through my attempts to taste
crossing and uncrossing their nylon
coated limbs
bumping the other ladies they
may have never known
ah the salt from eyes and duct
tears could season my favorite steak
like apple slices and pepper
pressed together
in red meat heaven
