I loved you from the bushes,
from behind the low stone wall,
eye from underneath the bridge
you wore no pants at all
that day I peered between
the cracks.

I’d love you like the storybooks,
like Seuss and maybe Donne,
take your choice.
“Ode to a flea”
or cat’s hats,
be sure to pick the one
you haven’t read,
but don’t expect me to
stay up reading.

I’d boast I’d kill a dragon
for you but that’s as far as I could get,
the boast I mean,
maybe somewhere down on the coast
if I was drunk
enough and all.
See, I could find
that guy that saw one
without his video camera.
Then we could buy Sam’s
false teeth back for him.

Don’t think
to cast a magic spell and
not think you’d go to hell
with Preacher Jones.

Armor makes my crotch sweat and
the DA has my sword all tagged
and stored away and every time
I ask for it he says “Not yet”,
like I’m supposed to wait for it,
suppose the wolves come back.

The bed with your handcuffs on it
is in storage but I’ll have it back
soon as I remember the combination
on the lock you gave me
for Christmas
and Ted can borrow the pickup.

I loved you best the day
you bit me back,
and stole my garlic toast
off that tray next to the tub,
that day in the bath
and oh by the way,
happy birthday and all,
whenever,
I missed it.

And Oh Yeah,
stars & stuff,
and flowers junkly perched,
like in that old ugly vase I broke
last year and threw away.

dime a rhyme,
dime a rhyme,
and Undulated
Undie-quiet-Love.

10/01/2005

Posted on 10/01/2005
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Somers