I WISH I WOULD DIE

in a car
cruising
at sixty
or seventy
on a perfectly fine
autumn day
smoking a Lucky
and drifting
just drifting
next to a body
of water
moody
& full
of swells
& lulls
listening
to Sonny's Moritat
and wondering
what's next
on the playlist.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

TITS GALORE

They're proud,
they're pointy,
they're poised;
they bounce, they bump,
they undulate
like the air
on hot Georgia asphalt
on a long stretch of highway
in the dog days of August.
They flirt & tease,
they conjure
the boyhood spirits
of men.
They're in spandex,
latex, unisexed,
harnessed, haltered,
or loose
defying the whims
of gravity
& air pockets.

Some tits,
you couldn't find
with a compass,
while others
are a dairy factory.
All though
are lovely.
Lovely with the promise
of warm sweet syrup
spreading warmth
inside your belly.
Enough
to allow you
to close your eyes
and drift,
just drift.

And to think:
it's only June.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014