I’ll keep you in this bottle,
watch you ferment.
You’ll age just fine,
when I slide the cork screw in,
you’ll satisfy my errant need for wine.

Because I am weak,
with you in my mouth,
swallowing each gulp,
until I black out.

So close to my lips,
each swallow
adds to your allure.
I’ll push the stopper back in
and come back time and again, to refill.
My lust palpable,
Cold, and bitter at first.
The need to taste you,
quenching my unshakeable thirst.

Because I am weak,
with you in my mouth,
swallowing each gulp,
until I black out.

Dear Lover,

This distance leaves distaste, left misplaced, double-takes.
Another chance, service you with no second glance.
Deflowered your writhing, vicarious pose,
held within my palms, no longer your own.
Breaking speed of the sound barrier ahead,
carnal disruption, fully complicit instead.

Disruption and chaos, the lovely discord.
Grapes for lilacs, drunken flesh, burgeoning pores.
Back to the well to partake, those who desire more.
Cheeks balefully flush, blankets scatter the floor.


Whimsical mystique of this dance between you and me,
served us well in the looking glass self,
sky held down, knuckles out, primal wealth.

Stole a glance and begged for one more,
as lips quell for the return,
the heart suspended in air, head to floor.

The triumphant pulse of broken veneer, undercurrent hum of fluorescence,
quiet under sheets where not a soul could interfere.

Sweat infused satin, you trembling to never be left alone here.
My promise to come back to you,
pining for my flesh as I draw near.


Pretty girl,
exchange this man’s body for a beautiful face,
24 hours,
to see what it’s like, what it takes
and the looks and the glares,
men making fools of themselves.
Throwing their desperate bravado in your path, looking for ways to outdo the last.
Legs for a mile to kick them all away, poor saps looking to score, one-liners and allniters.
In the presence of beauty,
when nothing on the inside means anything to you.
On the outside,
my thighs and chest, cleaving mockery of fools.
Just one day.
To know how it feels.
Pretty girl.
I don’t blame you,
to feel the way you do.


I can be a transient lover to you.
Stability, security, override what you feel.
Eventually my act gets tired.
Songs embellished in your name,
I don’t know what’s real.
Forgiveness is.
I owe myself a few more mulligans.
Nothing rhymes with mulligan.
Except restarting.
Not really.

I don’t blame you for wanting out.
Happiness is a dollar sign, no time
for silly thoughts, these words of mine.
McCartney was right all along.
No amount of prose can replace structure,
fidelity, coarse in the hourglass.
Rubbing you, those last sloppy moments in bed.
Sand stuck in your bathing suit.
“Fuck me” still hanging in the air over my head.
It felt so dirty to be with you.
Transient love spent.
My well-meaning “goodbye” sent.



My identity seems to change with the scenery.
Graphics in moonlight, supple skin, no bystanders in plain sight.
Fingers on your waist, preparing for a taste


Sleep with me on this carpeted floor, and when you beg,
I’ll give and give until I’m used up. It’s what I’m here for.
No need to call me.

Satisified, I won’t be inside you any more.