Mickey G. and me are lovers.
We are kissing under the stars.
His car will not run.
He fears I won’t love him,
so he chooses another.
She is strange and foreign.
Transvestites wearing pearls
crowd into the dimly-lit room.
I scurry away to the boulevard
where every person wears red.
Mikey G finds me there dressed in blue.
He holds me tight and
we float into morning on a river of
sheets and pillows.
6 comments:
Pretty perfect!
great...love the sensuality!!
beatriz: someday I'll have to tell you the story behind this dream...but only after a long session with JD! :)
i live for the long, slow, smooth moment!!
Good, though God knows what it means :) (TS Eliot said that the meaning of a poem is the decoy that distracts the readers attention at the front door while the poetry slips in at the back).
Igor: I think I do the opposite when I write...and meaning is so subjective isn't it? Based on the reader's experiences?
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