Must say how much I love the letter S
She brings excitement, class,
Shouted, she slices
When too-much repeated
She runs off.
She carries my meaning,
Even the look of her!
S S SsssssssssssssssS!
Maybe she will become a Z
When she gets old.
I will love her.
…Must’ve been all the sex.
Cute and quick
Her light response to the split sagging bed,
And the old bolt that once held the frame-halves together.
Not wanting one more thing to fix.
She hands-over the pieces:
One quarter-inch bolt,
With it’s sheared-off head.
…Really lasted a long time,
…Since before the kids.
He slowly folds his knees and back,
Making a floorward move.
Half-under with legs out,
Like some auto mechanic in dress shoes.
…Maybe we should have had more sex,
…And broke this when I was young enough to fix it.
…Careful, old boy
rubbing the ratchet up his arm.
But under the bed,
Virginia tradition and rich food
Gonna bind himself to gentility
Kindness, of the soft-spoken sort
Shoulda listened to his momma
Stayed home and swallowed his cufflinks
Just ask Prometheus
Suicide’s better than madness
Even you find and fix you a Belle
Maybe your boy-babies get to be Beaus
But you still be a Yankee