my restless mind wanders to your breasts soft and smooth and full your hard nipples straining against your dress they mesmerize me reach out for me a grown adult man who knows better licking the inside of his lip restless—
my hand sliding the hem higher would you stop me? my eyes dare you to defy my lust you have no idea what I want to do to you for you with you stand before me let me memorize your thighs sliding my hands up your panties down ...
and so I scribbled these words on a napkin, announcing to myself that my soul was broken along with my heart barely out of my teens I died young— my rebirth a miscarriage
because Sisyphus is a tragic character who no one wants to fuck and none care whether he ponders his humanity as the boulder rolls— his poetry will not put food on my table or buy your love (or drink for the lack of it)