There are no instruction manuals, no
pocket book sized pamphlets complete
with diagrams and bullet lists, no
chapter devoted to proper etiquette
for initiating foreplay
with bones. I could use some advice
on what to wear: a pink negligee
or maybe just skin? Or less?
Should I worry about making death
feel at ease? Do I offer him a drink?
Gin and tonic or under the rocks,
what do you say, lover? Do I call him
lover? Turn the lights off or leave
them on? And again, the question
of foreplay. Would it be easier
if I made conversation? Come here
often, do you? Lover? Maybe
when he comes, I will just lie
still. Maybe I should ask him
if he would hold my breath.
--Saeed Jones
+ + + + + + + +
Oh give me a clue somehow
My days were so mis-spent, now
I'm wasting my time
Worrying on about you
Oh soul-less city
Your changing skyline is twisting me up
Inside - I give away another minute
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