I exist outside the frenzy
As I try to come to terms with my aloneness.
Lovers are volatile
And husbands a bore.
I aspire to transcendency
But this too is fleeting-
Satisfaction should be embalmed
And saved for later, crueler times
Yet such foresight is denied us
Like dogs we lap up pleasure
In between the plodding days of mental suffocation.
Oh, give me a lover who can think as well as he can fuck!
Passion atrophies when men are dumb as beasts.
Why don’t you get me off on conversation?
Plow ideas like seed
Philosophize our way through foreplay, climax, denouement
And the magic realism of our minds will meet
Coloring clear all the blurred lines
Between pain and pleasure.
© 2017 Anne Yumi Kobori