Day Break

       Wet sex sloshing
       Like cartoned juice—
       Spontaneous spooning
       Tends to end this way

       She’s on top—I’m
       Staring
       At her tits:
       Pressed together—
       Her hands on
       My chest

       I grin dumbly
       Amidst a haze
       Of morning-piss-yellow
       Buzzing about my head—
       Unshowered, yet wet,
       Armpits
       Make it a threesome—

       Until her pounding
       Veers into the
       Imprecise,
       For the Keurig
       Sleeps still,
       And I, blinking
       Through the
       Odorous funk
       Clasp her hips
       And flip her to
       The bottom—

       She thinks of me
       As a Slim Jim eatin’
       Macho Man
       Taking control,
       Though I’m really a
       Nervous Nellie
       Afraid of having
       My member cracked
       In half—
       Who has recently
       Discovered a penchant
       For radishes.


When the God Lord Takes Me

       When the good lord takes me
       I hope there will be
       Cheese and smokes aplenty

       I hope my love will meet me
       In an infinitely warm bath,
       Large enough so our hips
       Do not cramp
       And knees can straighten

       I hope for my grandpa
       To be ready and willing
       To bowl
       With everlasting
       70-year old energy

       I hope our phones
       Don’t make it

       I hope I can
       Ride a bicycle

       I hope my step-dad
       Isn’t in charge
       Of the thermostat

       And that Jesus
       Smokes weed.


Rich Glinnen is a market researcher by day and a writer by night. He enjoys bowling, and drinking red wine with his cats, Hayes and Cleo, at his home in Bellerose, NY. His poesy can be read in House Organ, edited and published by the late Kenneth Warren, and at Lingerpost. His girlfriend calls him Taco.
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