embedded with no empathy
entrenched with no egress
i could pretend i’m not invested
divest myself of the mess
and lessen the desperation
all for the red coal bed of cold despair
but i remember spring nights
and the dryer vents pushing perfume
into the excited intoxicated night air
the ripe grapes in the fall flavoring the mist
the lilac and the tiger lily
the cucumber gin and tonic
wooded vanilla wined whiskey
the slick wet strawberry kissed
and there is still something there
smell of her shampoo in clean wet hair
the still wet arms enfolding
the water droplets glistening
and falling from her rose-tipped breasts
to my tight excited chest
lying in the warm darkness breathing
at last the rest is rest
intermittent calm and dribbles of sympathetic commiseration
many moons of coffee spoons perhaps
a measured stable messiness is best
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