The Gardener

I'm surprised by his power.
I sacrifice nothing as I'm held
by his arms and drowned by
His kisses.
Yet, it is obvious who will
Penetrate whom.

My body and his are pulsing drums.
Vibrating and responding to each
Connection.
We are frenzied and sensitive.
Our hands, never stopping, are touching,
Gripping, stroking, grabbing,
Massaging and caressing.

Whispered agreements about the lame
Body Nazis and the lack
Of real men with real bodies.
Fuzzy chests and beefy legs.
His glorious weight on top of me.

Man with man.

Intimacy, passion, sexual heat
And a connection through laughter.
Not a native, but a suburban
Landscaper here on vacation.

Happy Pride day to me!

Perhaps someday I'll have a
Gardener all to myself.

Today I was My Mom

I find myself
Walking around my apartment,
Dusting and happily cleaning,
While classical music is
Playing around me.

I'm struck with the thought,
"Oh god, I'm my Mom."
At first I want to throw
Down the rag and all the
Negative stigma that
Goes with it.

But, not with my Ma.

Aside from excessive, unnecessary
Worry, and a tendency to nag,
My mother is amazing.
She values laughter and family
Joy and music.
She taught me that happiness
Comes from within.
She continues to amaze me
With her strength while
She watches her beloved
Deal with a debilitating
Painful, untreatable disease.

I pick up my dust rag
And embrace my fate.
Being my Mom is not such
A bad thing.