& a small splash of fresh blood on a stone.
An unusual, dark maroon.
Boots plod through dirt
or volcanic ash, semi-comic puffs mark every stride
& the sound of the doorbell is like a squeal/
Three women watch twelve naked men in
the afternoon sunshine, their beards
glisten with beer.
The wet slap of passion does
not echo in the walls of this engagement &
out on the patio
the pigeons & starlings
are birds in the same game deck
& struts ….even
the sun is mounting our privacy screen.
Like evolved beasts, shaved all over
& wearing sunglasses for effect
each talks before tumble,
ask before we bask.
Bald & bandy
eats his candy.
With a crack of the whip
the Mistress supervised a line of six men
milking their condom coated cocks
like a mad old military band.
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