I love to touch the solid bare skin
of statues in the park,
caressing the gentle marble folds
that cascade down the violated virgin
bodies of greekroman goddesses;
whispering public secrets to
carefully sculpted ears, tucked in front of
blond, brown, black locks
crafted from blue-white stone;
deftly skimming, soft giving cheeks-
patronizingly unmovable.

Life gets itself explained,
staring into blank eyes screaming of
eternal infinite breathing,
of the wet, warm and safe;
hugging a cold maternal body
past twilight, dusk, curfew called
past foggy constellations and
track after track after track
streaming musical accompaniment until flesh is
softly stroking, petting, whispering in a
fatherly discreet way,
to men with coffee cups of Styrofoam,