A-LOVE-KNACK-LACKER-VERSE
He has not the art,
he has not the skill.
Love-making for him
is simply all uphill.
He hasn't the touch
nor has he the caress.
He lacks sophistication.
He is short on finesse.
No he hasn't the art,
he has not the skill.
Love-making for him
is his own selfish fill.
CONCRETE-WILL-THIS-WOOD-
HERE-BECOME
The trees here will fall.
This dirt-track become a street.
Houses spring-up like flowers.
The deep-grass be replaced with concrete.
WHIRLING-ROUND-IN-THE-DARK
I heard the click-clack of shoed feet
as the girl came running down the street.
She raced into the open-arms of one
on whom the moon and streetlamp shone.
Now they shone upon her face too
out there in the town's midnight-blue.
He spun her round so that her feet
were lifted from the hard concrete.
Ah, how the girl laughed with glee,
and how I wished that guy was me.
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