appetite

like a cat watching a bird through a back door screen
he looks out the window of his limousine
and sees the boy on the corner
with his hands in his pockets
nonchalantly leaning up against the wall

“come into me”
“come into me”

          some like pleasure, some like pain
          some crave a stranger’s kiss, a lover’s bite
          heed no conscience, feel no shame
          only this all consuming appetite

like a dog who buried his bone in the neighbor’s yard
he slips out of the alley to the boulevard
there’s cherry pie in a window
the smell of fresh brewed coffee
he nonchalantly ambles to a window seat

“come into me”
“come into me”

          (chorus)

like a falcon floating a thermal above his prey
he watches the waitress as she walks away
he sees the run in her stocking
and the tell-tale track marks
she nonchalantly flips her hair and glances back

“come into me”
“come into me”
“come into me”
“come into me”
         
(chorus)

© 1998 by jeffrey wash