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Postmodern Village
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I Could Have My Seculsion and My Sex Too
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

keeping lust in small wooden humidors:
libidos popping up when properly wound--
the seal important to keep in all those swollen
and aching words--each a taste of perfect intercourse

this way, I could avoid insipid beginnings:
supermarket small talk over grapefruit underneath the cold mist
wine-induced first-base groping in an under-lit restaurant corner

if I could be left alone with my reruns of Law & Order
and my tattered copy of "East of Eden" and my Pez
but still open moments of passion like butterscotch candies
jack-in-the-box orgasms firing out when I crack open the lid

this may, in fact, be the afterlife

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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