For the first time in about four months, I wrote a poem. It's a bit naughty, and probably unfinished, but I thought I'd post it. It's called "The Color of my Skin."
Coffee tastes best when it is the color of my skin;
gets that way with a dollop of half 'n half.
There is no place for non-fat.
And a man tastes best when there is sweat on his skin;
gets that way when his body begins to writhe,
percolates desire.
So much desire spills over the brim,
like a bitter cup of half 'n half coffee, smooth,
sweet,
the color of my skin.
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