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

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