THE SMELL OF YOUR OCEAN
The perfect woman opens the door
is not fooled by the wheelbarrow,
my back stiffens regardless.
A bed so soft it’s impractical.
I usually like to begin with a stutter
and bounce around to stimulate gratitude.
My head aches with the despair
of not being awarded relative status
by the stigma of rebuttals in the flotsam,
that took credit for my investment share.
Sometimes you can sit here and not smell it
but for only a few days in the year.
I suggest taking long walks feigning disinterest
then suddenly exploding within esoteric limits
all over your unique smile, most fair.
The Beatnik Cowboy 