by Jeph Johnson 

I rejoice in the arms

Of a girl I don't know

Without even catching

A glimpse of her show 


Her eyes allured

A magical "come-hither" look

So I opened up

More of my checkbook 


And I called her "gorgeous,"

And she called me "sweet,”

Uncommon traits

To both of us meet.  

In private closed doors,

A four-minute dance

I don't even care

If she takes off her pants 


I just want her tender

Feminine touch,

Why does it matter

To everyone so much?


Is it pathetic

To fulfill a desire

That everyone else

Seems to acquire?


Perhaps I should continue

Yielding to sin

Or try to fall in love

All over again? 


But until then I relish

This improved condition

That's risen from the ashes

Of my past failed ambitions


No one who is sound

Seems to understand

How this encounter

Makes me a new man


Giving me power,

At the very least,

To feel like someone

Whose heart is at ease


And though it is called

A "wicked indiscretion"

Her warm tender touch

Heals my depression

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for Ashley, 1999

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phil_carcione's picture


I think we all have been there. As a matter of fact I still am. Great poem. Covers a topic not usually seen. Good work.


Care Everhart's picture

i love if when you feel like a person can just heal you, its the greatest feeling in the world..
read my poems sutmime?