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RATA GORDON

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In Her Pants

 

an inkling

a tickle

a trickle

 

a smell in the jam

black rosary

                                                            keep going they tell him

even when life has no blows

no jobs and no

 

enlightenment even

 

when the best you’ll get

is a lump of sugar too big

to carry home

 

  they tell her the time

is now

 

and apart from

walking quickly

from her fantasy that

they are soldiers

 

 

they have the issue to deal with

of finding a route

 

into her pants

 

 

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