Hostess

Her smile is as soft

as her skin is to touch,

is delight, and she says

“Come to see me.”

I hear, “in my bed,”

though it’s not said,

or implied.

I’ll gladly accept just the smile

for awhile.

          Untitled

My sin is as blatant to your naked eyes

As your quasi-clad breasts are to mine.

          Image, #2

My fifteen-year-old self

propels to the fore,

skinning his shins

on the counter he tripped on,

and sensing her eyes

almost meeting,

the beat becomes erratic

and dries out his mouth

while the moment she passes

has gone.

Add fifteen years to twenty

and one makes another,

though sensible,

dirty old man.

          This can’t be Lust, #2

Once upon a time

when I was younger

I displayed

a highly moral kind of hunger

for the hearts and  minds

of the girls I would call upon.

Now that I am older

and more truthful,

I exclaim

with a happy grin, and toothful,

that’s it’s just their bodies that I’m after, after all,

upon.

          Limerick

There   was a young lady in jeans,

  and a dirty old man of means.

They met in the park

  and soon after dark

His means and her jeans

  were picked clean.

          Intend to what?

Count ten down to one

and then explode if you want,

but don’t come to me

with your fuse already lit

unless you intend to.

Untitled

Beat my breast

as I would caress your own

for I’ll not repent