I'm a filly with legs for days,
zigzaging, #pinballing, bouncing my ways
over lush green pastures.
Then my dream fractures
and I wake up. Let's try the wheelchair today, the doc says.
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It's his job to touch and massage and rub
private parts, intimate bits, a nipple, a #nub.
Squeezing a bum or caressing a lap, he
himself feels nothing, but the client is happy.
Touching the tip brings tips in the Nub Rub Club.
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"What's with the damn detective? Is he drunk? Is he slow?"
Ben glares at the TV. "I knew the murderer from the getgo!
It was the nephew with the knife, that misfit.
How come not one of those morons sees it?"
Tom sighs. "It's because the #screenplay says so."
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Most #sensuous delights of my childhood? Among
those was whipped cream tingling on the back of my tongue.
Or fine, beach-warm summer sand
running tenderly through my hand.
They still work (try!) even though you're no longer young.
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Star Wars Day, slim milk, the garbage truck
at 6 a.m. Cold rain, folding laundry, what the f*ck?
There's quite a lot
I could #boycott.
But I just boycott bad luck.
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A fragment hits the neural speedway, weaving
in and out of #traffic, coming, going, leaving
an image behind on the left lane,
a love child of the heart and the brain.
I blink, then type "CHAPTER ONE", chest heaving.
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He was hard-headed, no kid-gloves, astute.
"Remove, remake, replace, redo, #reboot!"
That was his approach in life
for everything except his wife.
She was supposed to stay put, but she removed herself for good.
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