- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Morning Train
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The morning train is running down the tracks to who knows where
I turn my head, look at you, run my fingers through your hair
You look a bit surprise, twist your head and smile my way
And here I thought the present would be just another day,
We meet in the middle, we kiss lip-to-lip
Each of our hands finds the other's hip
I feel my heart beating, I inhale your sweet aroma
The last thing I remember before my sudden coma,
On the train the passenger, bored by the ride
Pulls the six-gun pistol from the holster on his side
He eases down the window, takes another nip
Fires into the morning, lets the fucker rip,
The projectile leaves the barrel, in the blink of an eye
I feel my grip loosen on your gorgeous morning thigh
Head explodes in colors then the morning sky goes black
I collapse there beside you flat on my back,
The passenger smiles, drains his hip flask dry
Afterward they all ask each other why
They save my life for nothing, you're distraught, then revive
And catch the morning train, lucky to be alive,
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