- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Safety Guaranteed
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Picking up hitchhikers, East and West. Giving rides to familiar strangers; it has always been a pastime. He says, do you know who I am? His mind reels with memory and I smile. Yes. My fat cheeks rosed with shame. His smile, the same. He showed me things that worked this time. He begged and wanted a do-over from 1973. I shook my head. I became a nun. Showed him the rosary and the habit. He brought me to his mother. Diana Ross had become a pastor. She glared at my bible and screamed for her Lord. I pressed her hard; our hearts touched. Her son made love to my car door. He pet me like a dog and I let him. That hair, Kikah. I love that hair. In the church parking lot.
He was guilt ridden and healing too.
