Everywhere Sex

Sleep,

the ancient rain

comes again.

Pounding on my windows

as if to say,

“wake up.”

I roll to my side

and pull the blankets over my head,

and dream of New Orleans

and beignets.

Coffee

black with chicory

and milk.

The hot sun

and the buzz of insects

at every block.

Oysters sliding down my throat

tangy with horseradish and cocktail sauce,

filling me up with sex.

Everywhere.

Sex.

We rode the trolley

and ran in the park

wearing our sandals and shorts,

And never once worried about time.

Now,

greens and reds run from us,

as galleries shut their doors with the dusk.

We sit on the bench

eating carrots,

a couple of weird rabbits.

Silent.