Allegedly Cerebral

The mind, for all its hauteur, is the servant
Of the bag it's in. The body's wounds put
It in pain. The body's needs will make it
Hunger. All of this occurs to me, the mind,
As I sit in my body, watching Sheryl Case
Walk by. I know that she is not a beauty;
Fair enough, but nothing special. Still, as
She moves down the street, sashaying, I think
I should say, the order coming from my
Body is, “bring her to me.”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 47 times
Written on 2014-08-08 at 22:45

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