On Her Majesty's Secret Service

Eye to eye,
you are thinking I am pandering to a vagina
already laid claim.

I am.

To put spurs in your sides.

The same way

I was made to watch

the lows and

ham hock slapping highs,

fingertips not mine, whipping cross haunches,

and spitting into my palm,

wishing I were you and you me.

Another year with the dragon.

Pardon my language,
all in good jest,
but her heart a flutter, for a second or two,
carries the wings on my back the same as you, the same
link animated again, dead too long,
to the ticker inside my chest.

Heartbreaker

No one told you to go home.
No one told you stand alone
projects end up drones
and made up slices out of cones,
squares come out and cover blown,
at some point, that point, all is owned,
and we get back to what is known.
Loving the air and the rose.
Loving the air and what is closed,
'cause every door is
what is honed
and seeing you, first times again
is knowing what is digging in
and the last thing that I need,
compiling experience, is a friend.