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LSMFT
by Philip F De Pinto
Waned,
Unfrozen rope
Of thawed manliness.
There goes her only hope.
What bliss, what bluster,
Prior puffing a smoke ring into the air
From your lucky strike means fine tobacco
As we, sabbatical on our back would watch it descend
On bedposts, as of now the sole erections in the room
With notions to corral the two.
Or did you blow the smoke ring into the air
That in descending would corral my finger
LSMFT, on that digit ever to malinger?
Save the one that was beside you, was beside himself,
Revved and ready to take you
Out of idling,
Soon as you snuffed out the bachelor slayer.
01/19/2013 Posted on 01/19/2013
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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