Sylvia's mother put her daughter on the train, John Fogerty's beauty, Sylvia's mother kissed me in the rain,
Sylvia's mother put my lover on the train, I had bite marks on my neck where Sylvia's mother's mouth woke me in her daughter's bed, "I listen to you and her on the monitor I hid," she whispered, Forty-seven, Sylvia's mother heated my thirty-two years, taking my hand and pulling me away to her bed,
it takes an effort to say "no," so I didn't, it's all the same water, having made it countless times, Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show plays Sylvia's Mother, her stylus in my groove, smooth, we started four hours ago, not stopping for a break, we run cupfuls,
Sylvia's mother placed her head under the sheets, she devoured my sweet cashew pulp channeling lubricious in my pink pleats like a butterfly on milkweed, and I had never been so high on pollen that blew cries in Sylvia's bedroom, the baby monitor backfiring the intensity of lust, and Sylvia heard the highs and lows, what do you do besides whenever a train passes, is sip your beer, feel the vibrations, and think of what to say next,
Sylvia's mother put her daughter on the train, John Fogerty's beauty, Sylvia's mother kissed me in the rain...
Martin Powers wanted an ironing board for Christmas. Instead, he got . . . Matthew Kieler, a non-returnable gift, but a gift that kept on giving. A powerful tale of survival, compassion and unapologetic love in the time of AIDS.
A young technician mourns his lover until he meets another man - a man with a secret. But there are other secrets as a jealous ghost returns to protect his turf.
had many tests done the past few
months. I have an enlarged heart.
Your poem was suculous!
Becca
Regis
Sonny G
This is so well-written, and so beautiful! I enjoyed this.
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel