To Kiss

To Kiss and Tell
rolls real well
along the seam
that seals my mind.
But instant thoughts
like kisses soft
and lips that loft
rush fools into kisses that tell
far too well,
that instant thoughts can have lasting
effect
on those who’s minds let kisses dwell . . .

Like Cats

Like cats intertwined
Or puppy dogs tumbled alltogether,

You and I
share cares (bare) on this bed.
In and Out
Your breath and mine,
Like thoughts laced with wine or
Sunlight through vines.

Just then, when I stood next to you,
It took all my pacifism
To not reach out and touch you.
Now I sit here on the edge
Of war wondering why I didn’t.

Wait.
I did.
I reached out and stroked your face.
Just my body
Stayed in place. Now, . . .

Night and I are dark inside.
The moon and you
A rising tide.
This life (and the rest) too light.
Night and I,
We must hold tight.

The Same

Every girl I ever knew
                       reminds
                       of every girl I ever knew.
Same soft
Same light
Same waiting every night
Same body
                     soul
Same end
hole
and

Every man
dancing eyes
little boy sighs
just one of the guys
stroking the same
totem’s pole.

Glad Roses

I can fix sad roses . . ., she says

And her smile confirms
Like rain on the earth
That indeed sad roses
Is familiar turf.

But it’s not so easy
This task in my mind
The world with its roses
Is definitely blind.

They’re scentless you see
And sad for that reason
These roses I give
No matter the season.

So it isn’t the wilt from
Stem to the hilt
Nor the mad range of
Colors that drives me so sad.

But the lack of a scent
And the image it recalls
That hammers at my heart and
Raises all my walls.

I can fix sad roses

Her smile supposes . . .

As she arrays them in a vase
Then turns and pauses
At the frown she can see
Is still on my face.

So she takes my hand and
Pulls me in a way
That suggests dancing
As we begin to sway.

And it’s then that my senses
Pick up the scent
Of timeless embraces
And memories well spent.

I can fix sad roses.
I can her voice murmur . . .

And her smile is my smile as we waltz down the aisle
And the laughter we hear
Is from a child at play

Or a family gathered
At the end of the day.

And the roses are real
Red, white, and yellow
And the music is moving
And her touch smooth and mellow.

And its night on our porch swing
In a light breeze
And the roses are shadows . . .
With a backdrop of trees.

Making sense

 is what we do
2 plus 2 and blue is blue.
Still, when I love you’s the deal
making sense is so untrue.
Human insight messed by love
Scrambles thought waves
like a ball struck dove.
Making sense don’t make me laugh.
To be alive is a constant thrash.
She says, I say
Come on Babe,

Trust me , I’m your slave.
Making sense don’t be a fool
All it does is leave you screwed.

Country like . . .

Sweat drops drip
The band tests its sound
Crowd of talk bubbles all around.
Sweat drops leak down my arm
Like an ant’s swift scurrying,
Like a baby’s soft drool,
Like a chick’s first stirrings
In the embryonic pool.
The murmur of talk, the mumble of drums,
Laughter rafters, guitar player’s strum.
Hot breeze and dust motes
Soft like light
Filter through the tree tops,
Dapple my sight.
Two steppers dance
The dust begins to whirl.
He and she enhanced,
It all begins to swirl.
Eyes look left,
Smile sees right.
It’s Honky Tonk music and `
Dance all night.