Poem of the week 3/21/05

Hub to Scrub


If this is the place
where you belong, then
why do I feel your body
next to me,
and your soul
away from me?
It seems to me that
your mind is on the other
side of town
and your frown in my presence
combined with your hesitance
to make love to me
tells me that you heart
is freely given to some
other brother from another
type thing that makes
your heart sing, eyes flutter,
and body shudder in orgasmic
rhythms that I used to feel.
I thought I had that whip appeal
until you turned my hand
to your back instead of your breast
to rub only, instead of beating up
that yoni, smothered in a snorkel pack
to keep the biscuits out of the oven.
A couple of dozen hand shakes
later provides temporary relief
but adds to the grief
of the reality of your disposition
with my affinity for several positions
positioned to enhance our intimacy
and preserve our fidelity,
but the bank of physical prosperity
seems to be bought out
and without a doubt
I have no clout.
No longer a platinum customer,
I'm treated like your average everyday buster.






If you would like to use this poem, please email Datbury for the name of this author.