Tequila Sunrise

Tequila Sunrise, And I don't know who you are; The last thing I remember, I was drinking in a bar. I know I had shots of this, And shots of that; But I didn't think I had Taken it this far. Tequila Sunrise, Is what I remember best; But for the life of me, I can't remember the rest. I hope we had fun, Whatever it was we did; Afer I leave you this note, I intend to forever close my Tequila Sunrise lid. ©8/10/04

Man So Fine

He was so fine, I couldn't concentrate on my work; His eyes were deep, dark, piercing black. I kept turning away, But they kept calling me back.   His lips were full and red; His moustache was inviting to me; His teeth glistened full and clean of white.   When he laughed, so soft and so sweet, My stomach churned butter, And melted my entire body.   I couldn't stare, but I couldn't look away. His hair was curly and jet black. His skin was olive or brown, or Who cared what it was? He was so, so fine and charming, I don't know how I did my job.   I kept stumbling over my words, Forgetting my speech, Transfixed as I tried to tell him the rules.   He looked me dead in the eyes As he spoke, And I became paralyzed By his sparkle, dimples and magnetism.   I could barely walk him into the next room. When he said, "Thank you so much", I wanted to grab his arm and Force him away with me.   Did I say he was fine? I'm staring at him as I write this poem, Because when he leaves, I know I'll think he was a dream. A man young enough to be my son, Yet old enough to bring me to my knees.   8/11/04

Metro Spit

Someone spit on the ground again; Is that your spit? I am sick of looking at other people's spit; Did you just spit over there? Why do people have to spit in here? I just walked on some spit! I can't walk for looking at all this spit on the ground; Damn! That is some nasty spit! Look at all this spit! Is anyone in charge of cleaning up this spit? I bet they don't spit on their floors at home; I just stepped on some spit; There is really way too much spit in here; I think I'm suffering from spit trauma; The amount of spit in this station is ridiculous; I just slipped and fell on some spit; SHIT!

Self-Destructive Behavior #1

He drives my car like it's not his; Short stopping, tailgating, horn blowing, Brakes squealing in pain; Swerving in and out of traffic Like we have somewhere to go. I cringe as I lean to the left and right, As he turns corners like he's on the lam. Why do I allow this abuse Of myself and my precious automobile, Which must get me to work, to daycare, to me-care? He has car accidents Where I pay the deductible, Because he doesn't have a job; Avoidable if he took the time To care about the vehicle That is supposed to serve us both, But appears it only serves to Stroke his easily bruised ego By having a big piece of machinery At his disposal and control, With no risk and no financial responsibility. Yet, can I complain, When my car belongs to me, And he only belongs to himself? As I try to soothe the jolts and twinges Of my stomach muscles As we dart in and out of traffic At Rush Hour, I have to ask myself, Why do I allow it?

I Dance

I Dance, And they ooooo and ahhhh at my body out loud. It is a beautiful body, sleek, thin, and tight; Every muscle shows through my dark clothes, making the women sweat and men angry with jealous rage.   I Dance, and they come closer so they can touch where they should not, and place their dollar bills inside for a quick view, a stolen feel. I do it all to earn their money For a nightly wage.   I Dance, and endure their stares and their open lust, their wet tongues dripping as I push and pull the air around me. If they knew what I was thinking, They would stop their displays and become Otherwise engaged.   I Dance, knowing that they only know what I show; so little do they get of me, so much I have to offer, so much I have to give; But what they want is all they see while they touch and dream for that which I show them from my cage.