We Have Made The World Small

Stories told to our children
about the days before remotes,
microwaves and computers
are recounted to grandchildren
whose disbelief shadows faces
so incapable of awe or wonder,
they are radiant with pity.

If pity is to be our commodity
let us trade it for hope,
that while we were busy
abbreviating the world,
admiring its sophistication
and becoming isolated,
we recall that life exists
outside of our front door.

We surf the net, play tennis on wii
and overlook humanity
with a blink of each occluded eye.
Rather than uniting mankind,
sharing our music and art,
we have forsaken lyre and drum
to finger a deadlier HAARP.
We are maestros of destructive
instruments more resonant
than indifference.

Caramel Sin

The evening was a whirlwind -
we were all frenzied and taut,
bodies shaking and grinding
with none of those wasted moments
of precious and too little time.
Tomorrow would come, but tonight
my longing for you became a desire
to hold you close and press my lips
to your rich black-diamond skin.
I slipped my tongue into your wet
essence, delving into the dark
depths of your liquid delights.
My pulse quickened as your fluids
rushed over my palate
like a Jamaican waterfall
of melted creamy caramel sin.
I swallowed the first crescendo of
satisfaction and reached for you
again and again and again,
until my need was sated
and I switched to decaf.