- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Silent Still Want to Sing
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Ben remembers how happy he felt
last Sunday evening at seven,
dressed for romance and a late dinner,
bow-tied, shoe shined, and smelling
the centerpiece his Harriet arranged.
Why, she's the only woman for him
who dabs a little cologne on his chin
before she serves him dinner at seven
under a full moon shining tonight
from the ceiling light above her head
who puts the plastic flowers on his stand
while a clock on the wall tells her it's time
for Mona in room eleven
as Harriet tucks him into bed,
keeps to herself her name is Diane,
and whispers "Good night, my sweet Ben.
We'll dine next Sunday at seven."
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