ROT.TOR

No use to be stirred

by her comments

about your snoring.

You know that age

had crept up and

you tire early afternoons.

Bad choice to force

togetherness

she indicates rubbing up

pushing her thighs

rhythmically at your bums.

But libido has left her and

returns to you only

during the night.

Tonight you have to go

to your offered dorm

by Mrs IRA

so Mrs B could tend to

her chain making jewelry

pearl and coral.

The artist does only mind

the full light

so he takes to the road.

With a musky smelling bus

the tourist crowded subway

he steps out at Stephansplatz

into the baking heat.

The famous Square occupied

y a sea of visitors and he seeks

the shaded side streets

to head toward the A/F

on Judenplatz.

Yet tonight to Red Tower Street

where he takes a lodging

for the next five days.

ROT.TOR

 

zoltanzelan

©ZJG-POetry’17.

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