Poem for the Day: A Game of Singles

A Game of Singles

Season me in sauce

for a little while

separate the fruit and add

the sour cream

quantities of the necessary −

such beauty in our needs

and I’m in the mood

to straighten out

pepper and salt a sexual boy

find a bit of lost improvement

a fondling stampede

to make the sugar leak −

explore before I buy.

Damn! he’s in bed drunk!

I hesitate to call again

kill the memory

separate the syrup of the night

there’s room enough for strength

it’s obvious he’s full of bone

and rugby matches −

exotic full-back

prefers a beer and a smoke.

Still, there’s always Gordon

playing vintage with the cool

hair piece sticks, at least

impresses heaps

of reliable tarts

after his nutty riches.

Gordon, ‘top of the bubbly set’

guest observer at the tennis match

paying $90 for a seat −

hissing dentures non-stop

to red heels in lips.

I have to radiate

contemplate my potential

this lack of twenty two.

I must resist this sudden urge

of photocopy hunting

images of my younger self.

I’m not surprised, Gordon rang

and suggested more than

a game of sport!