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Poemission
Blue Corn & Tootsie Pop
BACK
As a reward for turning 47,
I drove to San Antonio to spend some downtime
with a woman I knew online to be sweet and comforting,
the daily stress I choked on
making such a gentle demeanor
a necessary poultice for my wounded spirit.
This Native lady’s house was modest, but cozy,
and her voice as soothing as I needed it to be
as she petted my back and stroked my hair.
Drawn to her ample bosom,
I fell into a most nurturing place,
free from all cares and threats
except
perhaps
the presence of her large pit bull,
who appeared to be a might jealous
of her mistress’ affection.
But This Dog was as hungry as that one,
so I dove in,
seeking those calm waters to float upon.
Once I was atop the woman in her bed,
however,
there came a turnabout of attitudes,
for as my strokes stirred up a fierceness in her,
her Apache features drawing in climax
to a warrior’s battle scowl,
her dog took to lovingly licking the soles of my feet.
Between the two of them,
I found my peaceful release.