You’re a wild animal.
I can’t resist your call.
Liking it hard and hot.
Loving the equipment you got.
Beast of a man.
By Paul Crocker7 years ago in Poets
To the harvest moon, you say your prayers.
Asking why man made lights shine there.
They are so beautiful and inviting.
But ultimately dangerous and frightening.
If I were a library book, where do you suppose I'd be?
On the shelf between fiction and criminology?
Or on the table next to the coffee ring you left.
The night air is heavy and the world is shaded.
There has been anticipation since the sunlight faded.
In your dreams you think of canes of candy and bells of a sleigh.
People tell me that I should be stronger.
Because that is where the truth lies.
But I am honest no longer.
I admit, I have no alibis.
Make me wet, I told the clouds.
They looked dark and so did strain.
I laughed out loud.
Because yesterday, it rained.