We were talking about sex in a restaurant And she told me that a woman’s orgasm Was an all-over body experience, But I couldn’t help wondering Whether she imagined that a man
When I hear children playing But can’t see them, I picture them Running around in a garden, And then I think of my own And wonder if they too are happy. Then I become morose.
You were taken from this world by a sick man without conscience, who was free to kill for years and years, free to laugh as his comic strip unfolded, all but encouraged by the hapless brigade of blind
The good family sings of creatures great and small, Of all men equal, and of forgiveness, As the servant guides a herb-poked pig into an oven, His arms still raw from last Sunday,