when the urge hits

 What would Valentine Day be without a poem or two, or maybe eight.  Here’s the first one we all should be able to relate to.

when the urge hits

them in the crotch

a whole new vocabulary

enters the bloodstream

with whiskers sprouting

on his chin

his eyes wide open

he pokes along the sidewalk

skipping cracks –

she develops

out of pavement

her margarita cups

poking thru a trans

parent top

she slaps him

on the ass

with a passing

glance that breaks

his mothers back

and they are hooked

he struts along behind her

like a peacock

having just eyed a rainbow

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