Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Walk With Me

Let's get naked,
and walk to the moon,
past the International Space Station,
maybe peek in the windows
see if they're conducting
gravity-free sex experiments.

Our geriatric sags
would float like dog ears swimming;
our feet would leave prints
with toes and heels,
not sterile NASA treads.

I'd lay you down
in the Sea of Nectar,
ride a wild moon wind
from Africa to Africa.

We'd drink sun
from the cupped palms of our hands,
moon nosey satellites,
posturing for a front page spread.

Boogie board back home
on a couple of rogue meteorites,
wave at Masters and Johnson,
going around the world
for the billionth time.

(all rights reserved Pat Paulk 2006)


Anonymous said...

Okay, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that love poems aren't supposed to contain phrases like, "Our geriatric sags
would float like dog ears swimming". :) What a write, Pat!:)

floots said...

nice one
that same "geriatric sag" image got to me too
(i wish i could turn into a vampire
and have no reflection)

Nick Zegarac said...

I'll say this for you, Pat - when you get honest you get honest. This is a truly frank, no holds barred critique of love after certain parts shrink and others distend. Hilarious, joyous and inevitably - a celebration of that spark of lust that persists - no matter one's age! Great!

Pat Paulk said...

Thanks! Nick, didn't saying anything about any "shrinking".

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

what a love poem!!! (lord help her!) :)

Borut said...

c o s m i c love

Pat Paulk said...

Thanks Andrew and Borut!