Under the log-bridge.
Nibbling, gnawing at Craved and starved of A touch so real, meaningful and And endearing An amorous one. Telling the other Love, if generous Would buy them glory Mansions and big wheels Bliss and posh In the city of many lights. Under the log-bridge In the moon-lit night When lips meet lips And water hissing past rocks Hands entangled in crazed passion By the lush-green of the banks. The warmth of the embrace So taut Strangling, suffocating rubber Kegels, smooches and kegel. Taking a breath away Sweeping ones feet in a sway. Stolen, humbled, weary, dehorned... Pp-phew! The alluring dream fizzles out Unexpectedly. Desole! The poor sot soul Wakes to the chilly riverine breeze Buzzing quitoes, nibbling mice At the only skin The liquor couldn't save. Soggy, soaked in grime Emptied pockets Writhing in the sewer. He calls out to God That reality just got home. Passers-by can only look Across the foot-bridge Down on the wretch Clobbered, robbed and ashamed Of the isht it fell in