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