"He Tempts Me with Poetr and Kringle" by Thomasina

He Tempts Me with Poetry and Kringle 6.12.00

I sit here reading your poetry and eating Kringle.
Only God knew when I would taste this again… and you,
when you decided to get it for me.
Was that before or after we slept together?

I spit out the seeds. Never cared for raspberries
unless they were straight off the vine.
I used to pick them in my grampa's back yard.
By the time I got to the house, they were all gone.
This reminds me somehow of then.

I smell you.
It distracts me from reading.
I eat more Kringle and moan audibly in delight.

I watch your mind travel though echoes
and ages without me.
You're a strong one.
I respect your journey.
Still, you Free-Form.
That's a rare gift these days.
As a peer, i say ROCK ON.
Throw it, spew it, sling it, hash it…
Whatever it takes to get there.
Fuck the ones who hide behind pens
and quip over just the p.c.

You give us your heavens and your hells.
I see your distaste for impotence
and how, to have the power in your hands,
is to level any apparitions before you.
You crave that, as the world dissatisfies you more
with its idle and grotesque…

but I am here
if only a moment
flitting and flirting before you
I wonder what you see

I smile.

What could I have to hide?
You already know my demons.
Served them up a shot, or two I suppose,
and laughed one of those deep, devilish laughs
somewhere from the Dan Ti'en.
That Jones laugh which maybe doesn't come out enough
and is sometimes annunciated as 'ho-ho-ho.'

It is at these moments I see Santa
(while you are recalling some story
about blood and a feat of testosterone).

Some would think me crazy to say, "I can see your guts."
But what else to explain how your face lights up
when you talk about kids…or Bug and Henry.
You hide, but not too deep. I can see you.
You hate because you love - so much.
To me they are one in the same passion.
Yes, we have much more to talk about.

Like yang…and what you did to me last night….
my nipples get hard as I flush.

I can taste you…even through the Kringle.
You'll have to come share some with me.