The Door Was A Lazy Lover

 

The Door Was A Lazy Lover

 

The door was a lazy lover

it just splayed there between the walls

like a sexy bulldozer

not moving

in a thong

 

as he went in and out of it

reputedly, with manic gusto

or as the curtain rod once called it:

sweaty dong vs. misplaced glee

 

thrusting himself in and out

in and out

fueled by his safe coal love

that had wound up forging an unlivable atmosphere

for her, leaving him

 

anywhere else to go so he went

inside, rooms inside rooms,

in and out the same door

 

a stiff river of comings and goings

the kind of river with which he found it

impossible to disagree

 

his love made him horny for this

the in and outs followed through

with the back and forths

 

love fueled horny

or maybe it was the thong

 

the cynics say thong

but he was still betting all his abandoned pants cash

on love, even though he was still a long mile away

from payday and

 

everything he’d ever lost stayed that way

and the door remained propped there

between all the exits and enterings

 

not giving a shit