LONG SAD DRAG

LOVERS IN A DARK PLACE AND A LOSS.

Why no light
at the tunnel's end?

Is there an end
to the tunnel?

Our lips touch softly,
press gently,
move way,
and back again,
press again,
each sense
the tongue
on tongue tip move,
exchange juices,
then away.

I kiss her two
soft fruits,
mouth where once
a child sucked,
now gone,
but I remain mouthing,
and she sighing pleasured,
pleasuring sighs.

Is there a tunnel?

Which way
and where a light?

Nessuna luce qui,
darkness embraces
like a drunken w***e
wanting nothing,
wanting more,
and she and I
remembering
a different horizon
another shore.

The fruits become dry
and sag and we sit
and talk and smoke
the one cigarette,
stare at darkness,
puff on the cigarette,
a long sad drag.