Manifesto

I like meat and potatoes
Cooked medium
It's bad for my prostate
Living dangerously
Bukowski worked at the post office
I sell stuff that's not sexy
Just necessary
Always the loner
Finding comfort in one on one encounters
Put me in a group and I drink too much
The guy slipping out the back, and not returning
Gave up corporate life
To go on the road in field sales
No car, no problem
Walk my territory like a cop on a beat
Everyone thinks I'm crazy
There is some truth in that
Sex drives me, whether I'm having it or not
It's mind play in my idle moments
Grateful to feel the sensual pull
Just a regular Joe
With blue sky expansive thoughts
Best days are simple
My dog's nose is cold
My thoughts warm
Coffee aura spreading elevation
A day with promise
Unfolding