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August 31, 2012

It’s been a month since I’ve posted to this Blog, but I have been reading lots of other Blogs — about poetry readings I could never get to, about divorced women moving, about politics, & the agony of defeat (not really).  & reading poets so much better than me.

I walk alone about this seaside town, mostly in the gentle evenings, or quickly pass thru coffee houses on my way to work.  I’m taking a much-needed vacation soon up the coast, to bigger cities.  There’s nothing there either, I’m sure, but I need to use up the accumulated time from work, & I have my fantasies to pursue.

Lately I think of myself as a spare key, an image which may germinate into a real poem some day.

The older ladies are beginning to look good as I too grow older, but most wear elaborate rings on their left hands.  A barrier, or a reason to test their passions?  How long have they worn those rings out of habit?  As a shield?  What happens if I cum on the rings when they jerk me off, will the rings burst into flames, return to elemental molecules?  What will happen to these women, to their marriages, to their careers?

As you can see, my fantasies have not changed much during my silence.  The poems are more difficult.


From → Ponderings

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