poetry Short Stories Uncategorized

the gods of a good friday night

our bellies full

of lemon pepper chicken

mashed potatoes

and string beans

eaten by candle light

gregorian chants

and the laughter of children

we sit back upon a pedestal of pillows

headboard leaning

a silver tray

in the middle of the bed

bearing bourbon

with one glass meant for sharing

we decide on an oliver stone film

smoke filling the room

we sacrifice ourselves to

the gods of a good friday night

his hand wanders to her thigh

she slides herself into the dress shirt

he is still wearing

until her breasts cover his chest


tonight baby

stay inside