I promised Matt Benjamin that I'd write him a poem. This is it.
ODE TO MATT(RESS) BENJAMIN
Oh, what space-age magic is in you, friend
that you conform and comfort, relax and mold
around the contours of my body?
What mad god crafted you from the loam
and illicitly shared you with the world?
What thaumaturgy forged your spongy edifice?
What alchemy yielded your potent soporific?
The range of my dreamscapes nor the eyes of my lover
compare
to your sympathetic skin.
Whence you came and what you are is clouded in mystery
and yet, I trust your nebulous hands to catch me as I
fall and
cradle me in your generous bosom.
Even now lying here, your siren song echoes in my skull
and I am confronted with the inferiority of my station.
And while your memory will be impressed upon by scores
of admirers,
I have only one special memory of you.
wow, i leave you boys alone one night, and this is what happens?!
ReplyDeletewhile i feel slightly voyeuristic commenting here, major props. great lil poem. this one begs to be framed and hung up over the bed frame.