Does The Trick


By Edd B. Jennings

On occasion
I have the luck to cross paths
With good looking women
With hard little bodies.

In the throes of passion,
Few particularly object if I quote
The Rubaiyat or Keats.
Such receptiveness rarely translates
Into a desire to peruse the over-boilings
Of my seedy imagination.

When it’s time.
Rather than offering the talk,
As I wistfully look into the distance,
And explain with great regret
The necessity
Of wandering over the next hill

I offer them some of my work,
Something that expresses the true me
In undeniable, indelible prose.

Does the trick.


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