Your desire
wrapped up in
a thermal blanket
the colors of adjudicated fire
coveting the archer's silver bracelet
on your anklet you keep under lock and key
you're burning the voice stroking you hotter
than St. Elmo's choir
fire retardant obsolete
wool ignites chemistry
knees above your feet dare
not wobble the easel's three legs
planted solid when tongue meets groove
the level's floating mercury bead can't hold position
you tilt to the left am I right?
"Tilting to the left," is a dead giveaway to who the person is that you are writing about. I tend to tilt to the left quite a bit, but it is not me that you are writing about.
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.
Just a simple gathering of the Gay & Lesbian Activist Association of New Birch and Sipsboror (GLAABS) and we plunge down a hilarious ride to perdition.
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Ron