Feigned Poem by RIC BASTASA

inside that room
the item is displayed
in full
and you shall see the
perfect form that
you dream of

i will not describe the
lines and the curves
this is private

you are free now to explore
the terrains of the
human body

your hands are firm
you perspire in the middle of
the coldness

you are preoccupied with
yourself on the
limited time
life is....limited
time is money

the other one is obliged
the contract is clear
the hands mimic the touch of love
the lips plays the music
the body sways into a dance

the approximation is too short
love does not exist
no words come out
the eyes close imagining another
world out there
the heart bleeds
you do not see blood
you are too preoccupied with
what you shall get

well, time is up
upon a profuse perspiration
the heart is calm
that lovely storm is over now

you go separate ways
trying to forget.