The unholy itch to be scratched
Is only sacred to romantics.
Batting lashes and a thousand
We wink perjuries
And the love that draws lines
From base to base is like
A diamond reflecting hope
For something more

What instinct drove lips together
When food was scarce
And danger abundant as rabbits?
The exchange of saliva
Like baseball cards
The gnashing of teeth and flesh
Giving pleasure only to closed eyes
And hearts twisted with delusion

With skin on skin
We pull tight tight tight
Our fingers grip hips
Like fishing reels;
The line cast into an arrangement
Of blood and guts and ribs
In the hopes we get lucky
And the hook catches the heart

The stream of blood that flows
Over dust colored rocks and
Through the gills of fish smells
Of metal and you-- through
Your skin I see the Erie Canal
And jugular tributaries flow blue--
The dew on your skin like rhinestones
On a rodeo cowboy



The eyes are a stadium holding
An audience of doubts.
Our bets-- hands and fingers linking
Like a net, the courts of
Our mouths setting
A perfect match.
Without love, disgusting,
But this we can do.

I swore off sex
Like a nun or at least
Like someone holier
Than the unholy itch
That burns on my brain
Like a mosquito bite--
Rise above it or sink
Beneath him.

Only in the Great Outdoors
Is my mind an empty plaster mold
To be broken by a twist
Or touch of fingers--
I do my very best
To stay inside my mind
Where I am safe
From what I think I want.