Conquests
grooveamatic
Posts: 1,374
I had been comparing mine to yours, see,
Throughout the whole tenure of our friendship.
Your choices were always squeaky, buxom,
Witless creatures, trouncing about like such
Lurid trophies for me to covet, friend.
And now I can appreciate just how
You had been pulling it off all this time,
How you convinced them to hover in cars
Above you horizontal, or got them
In swimming pools to unfurl a petal,
And in restaurant back room booths quickly.
I always plodding through the ritual,
The background, the family, likes, dislikes,
And they not always stunningly pretty,
Not like yours; your stylistic pontiff
Ladies never had nor needed dislikes
For you to learn or get accustomed to,
Only marvels, busts, to ogle and pinch.
I wonder, have you ever thought about
My women, as I have yours, lustily?
Or, granted you had not, did you notice
What afflicted me, your damsels and girls
Besting mine in the forms that all men crave?
But where have they ended up, those women?
It could have been your kitchen, baking ham
And waiting for Sunday, lonely housewives
Whose singular carnal pleasure consists
Of their fingertips while you are at work;
Instead they are simply gone, as all girls
Finally will go. Years whisk them away.
Throughout the whole tenure of our friendship.
Your choices were always squeaky, buxom,
Witless creatures, trouncing about like such
Lurid trophies for me to covet, friend.
And now I can appreciate just how
You had been pulling it off all this time,
How you convinced them to hover in cars
Above you horizontal, or got them
In swimming pools to unfurl a petal,
And in restaurant back room booths quickly.
I always plodding through the ritual,
The background, the family, likes, dislikes,
And they not always stunningly pretty,
Not like yours; your stylistic pontiff
Ladies never had nor needed dislikes
For you to learn or get accustomed to,
Only marvels, busts, to ogle and pinch.
I wonder, have you ever thought about
My women, as I have yours, lustily?
Or, granted you had not, did you notice
What afflicted me, your damsels and girls
Besting mine in the forms that all men crave?
But where have they ended up, those women?
It could have been your kitchen, baking ham
And waiting for Sunday, lonely housewives
Whose singular carnal pleasure consists
Of their fingertips while you are at work;
Instead they are simply gone, as all girls
Finally will go. Years whisk them away.
.........................................................................
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
~Juan Azize
flows life
harvest moon
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
wow...:) it's so difficult to write a really good, really short poem. thanks for posting it here.