- Non-Erotic Poetry
- News Story
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She was seventeen and he was twenty-three,
they were living in- or around, old Milwaukee,
and we all wondered, how the poison settled,
did he and her drift to sleep evenly, or
did she go first, while he remained glassy-eyed?
--paralyzed, 'though he thought in her embrace,
A moment to make in the classic Cutlass,
idling away time in a suburban garage,
his doll engaged him with the tiniest kiss, while
his other girl became like the used corsage--
which is tossed long after the last formal dance,
and well after it has spoiled and staled.
--
Here I write these bitter lines
against the stance,
that I enhance everyday melodrama,
and have the power--
to devalue the other's pain- through mere diction,
when I reproduce its likeness- in fiction.
