Desert Blooms

Between the wars,
the ones not about oil,
I passed time under pitiless sun
getting pitifully drunk
on cocktails.

Cocktail dresses,
the kind for flirting with,
wore their girls under tightening seams
coming frighteningly near
to bursting.

But I liked them,
the ones I didn't know;
I passed time under flickering tubes
coming sickeningly close
to gushing.

Between the sheets,
the ones with five-star starch,
We made quite frenetic love
coming energetically hard
together.

After the wars,
when we'd saved the oil,
I came home to remorseless clouds:
wishing forcefully loud
for sunshine.