LATE LIFE LOVERS
After
we’ve gone to bed with the chickens
I
ask, Are you awake?
And
you say, Yes.
And
a bit embarrassed, I confess,
My
intimate urges haven’t hushed yet.
We
could just hug. We could make out.
We
could cuddle, or get up and slow-dance to oldies.
I
don’t have to be on top.
You
could ride the upper deck.
If
one of us should fall asleep, well, raincheck?
When
lust seems too much trouble for late life lovers,
Other
tactics must be learned:
Not
the old runaway train in the tunnel,
Not
the dipping of the wick,
Not
varnishing the cane.
Desire
doesn’t go away with aging,
But
the play does open on a more cordial stage.
Take
your time, Valentine.
Every
other Tuesday night, let’s make a date for candlelight.
Wear
a costume if you like.
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