Losing, Never Lost

I save this
you standing
alone in my
dreams waiting
thinking it would
be you
I save this
treasure you
and would you walk
away from me
to love me to
save me
love this
I say


Ode to the Pocket

It does not matter how I toil,
he speaks and thus my heart despoiled.
All other loves cast off like moil,
with just a glance my struggle foil.
Reaching out I can't recoil.
Though my life be in turmoil,
his grip on me I won't uncoil.
If his passion doth me roil
I ask myself who did embroil
this love affair with Raymond Doyle
and know our love shall never spoil.


To the Pocket Ode'er

I get all throaty
and my heart is floaty
and I wouldn't give a zloty
if he grew himself a goatee
but he's Pancho to Quixote
so when he gets to feeling oaty
I will howl like a coyote
as I fuck my dearest Bodie.