The Ecphorizer
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Washed by the red light
that flirts
with our table, your eyes begin assuming the color of your fourth straight shot of scotch. In husky seriousness you l e a n
across the breadsticks
and say you are consumed with love for me. Beneath the golden arches of your brows I see a vision of two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce-cheese-pickles-onions and your open-sesame buns. [line width="20%"] When, working in our garden, you lie down,
[line width="20%"]your wheat-blond hair in the asparagus patch evokes a Hollandaise to end all hungers. katy and I met last night under the moon. on the grass, behind the barn, our thighs sang with the fevered harmony of lovemaking. in orgasm, she bit my head off, katydid. © 1985 Donald Altschul Poet DONALD ALTSCHUL hides out during the day as a San Francisco attorney, where he lives with his wife, son, and a poodle, Binky. He is a transplanted New Yorker who also plays classical guitar. More Articles by Donald Altschul |
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