Old world sensibilities
Recounting how they used to exist in solitude
Before landing upon foreign shores
Bringing hostility & menacing attitudes
But we’re the aliens we’ve dreaded
The scourge has already been here
Talking heads with no shortage of breath
Keep reminding us who we should fear
TGIF & all that rot
Running when I’d rather be in bed
Needing to return to comfort
Sweat dripping down my backside instead
The sun rises over the sea
Seeing a fresh day start anew
Out of breath, but feeling alive
Faster I run, sooner I’m back to you
I can still make mature women blush
Knowing the proper placement of words
Using my tongue to enunciate firmly
The rhythm of recitement, she slowly purred
The fertile experience of rapturous joy
Pause a moment, so she won’t catch her death
Letting her pulse settle to reasonable levels
Returning to the living, joy in each & every breath
The bold blonde with big, bouncy curls
Much-maligned missionary souls
Falling in love was always my fatal flaw
Especially once I’ve relinquished control
Just wanting these eyes to close & slowly linger
Fatigue from society & the domesticated sheep
Intentionally & lightly dipping her ginger fingers
Focused breaths when you only wish to sleep
The warmth of a January day
A bright golden sun to start the year
Taking off clothes when its cold everywhere else
Mercury doesn’t cause a Floridian any fear
***
Time to take stock of what might be
Refreshing breaths while we can clearly see
You’re a fresh of breath air
Please let me fix us another
For you make my heart smile
Stone cold stereotypes
We’re lost in the void
Sudden depression creeps
On edge; constantly annoyed
Deep breaths to calm
We’re all out of control
Transparent in our pain
A generation of lost souls
An innocent looking soul
Draped with an ethereal gown
Confident strides across the patio
With Eve’s revenge
Crisp air – like the first bite of a green apple
Obscured; knowing her nectar to be my cure
I watch her bosom swell
It’s not objectivization
For I worship her
Refreshed in waves
This transparent Victorian hypocrisy
Knowing all that ails
& an unseen wound
Yet morning crests
Pale orange sky forces it’s way through space
In the arms of naked trees
I’m celebrating femininity
Spring’s arrival in a sundress
As she teases me with breathless recitals
Our love not by design
But still goes well with NorCal wine
“There’s nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.”
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Captain Q 