I forgot about how
the sundresses come out
in NYC summers, baby.
Warm sun, beautiful women,
and the air is just right
for drinking regret
and falling in love
with someone new.
In the bowels of the Bowery,
Francisco Goya would have a field day
painting this beastly accord.
I am a wolf
in poet's clothing,
but without a jaw,
because it dropped
earlier today in Central Park.
Devils!
I keep waiting for my libido
to lessen, but it's still strong.