How can we be downstairs
on the couch listening
to the Electric Indian's
Keem-O-Sabe album,
pronouncing it fine,
and then Peggy Lee's
Is That All There Is album,
pronouncing is great,
and an hour later
we're upstairs, having
something vaguely like sex
followe by something
definitely like a fight? How
can we go from Peggy
reminding us not to smoke
in bedd -- to a bed we set
on fire with words,
silence, two bodies
turned from each other?
Today in the locker room
I saw a nice ass. OK,
I take that back -- an exquisite ass,
the Hope Diamond of asses!
The guy who owns it
is rather dull, talks sports,
church, and lawn care. Sometimes
when we're dressing, he jabbers
about the Eagles.
The whole time I'm thinking,
oh please, please shut up,
but keep your pants off
so I can see that Taj Mahjal ass,
picture my penis entering it,
a guest, your ass politely
taking me in,
showing me around.
Ken Pobo's poetry has appeared in numerous literary publications including, Cider Press Review, Colorado Review, Nimrod, Orbis, and Stranger Than Madness.He resides in the Keystone state of Pennsylvania.