And moon fizz in Coeur d’Alene.
Fiery nuptials in a throw.
The look in his eye suggests that he is on to me.
Be still, and she will kiss you.
The ripple wave kisses my ankles, and leaves her scent behind.
I sense that she is motivated by routine as much as by pride.
Love and Lust rhyme well together…
To all the girls I’ve loved before.
Pits clothed in handsome fruit.
Five poems pop the gray ones.