after you

he touches me
the way a poet does

so

i am not sorry
your queen is unwed

back page transvestite hookers
and bad coffee

you are a spanish flu
with fifteen million dead

one daisy blooms
through the sidewalk

a tie on a doorknob
the only image
not too filthy to snap

how happy i am
to gaze through

the prison of your head

i fly freely away

further

until

all is said