The Hokey Pokey

Someone posted poems about sex

It didn’t make me want to read them

That’s not because I am too old to care

I didn’t want to be a voyeur

It’s her sex, after all

I didn’t feel invited for that,

And even if, I wouldn’t have gone

And it’s not because it’s risky

for me to talk about sex in public

Sex is common

Everybody has one

Or two

Everybody

There isn’t anything special about sex

It’s only exciting because of

conditioning

Sex is just a word

that’s pretty disconnected

I crave attachment, connection

Like this…

The way I feel about you

When we are intimate, love

About us

Our bodies together

Hands.Lips.Ears.Eyes

That is what it’s about

On Passing

I know how this feels
Something’s wrong
Something’s gone missing
My heart is tender
My eyes water without warning

And every so often,
something I see or read or hear reminds me
And I want to tell you,
but of course you are not there to tell

I know how this feels

I can be grateful that I knew you,
that you are no longer bound and tied to pain
or locked in that cooling lump of clay

But I am selfish, really
I don’t care for your freedom
I only know that I will not have you,
hear your voice,
your song

How is it
I didn’t realize how
I would miss you
until you were gone?

I know how this works,
I don’t need consolation
don’t want to feel better

I just want you back