One Hazel And One Green Poem by Jim Boone

Queer eyes on married guys because they
get right to it; no time to dance. While
my bromance is hitching on a back road.

The hazel eye stays focused while the
cock-eyed green one solicits woodies of
plunge and volley in a wild game of whose
balls and pile drivers, minus satisfaction
shhhhh, mime it.

Rhyme and reason are out back smoking’
a joint while Silla Sydin is swimming in
mushroom gravy and corn huskers is on a
fast course to make my hazel eye blue.

I’ve got the white horse, now I need that
perfect rider - that six foot dirty blond with
hero, shake it ‘till you break it, “good lord! “
looks and sun browned skin till there is You.

Tomorrow I’ll see what hazel can do to pay
the bills, fill the tank and the cupboard, while
the green-eyed slut sleeps and prepares

“Eat all you can and sit on the rest” is a motto
never subscribed to with both eyes wide open.

That hazel-eyed dreamer has a green-eyed
delivery, while that green-eyed solicitor
catalogues hazel-eyed resolution to 80/20 visions
of boys and men asleep in our bed after orgy number ...
don’t count or you might get an upset stomach.

When you take a number, you count for awhile, so
we all get to walk away feeling satisfied, for now.
“Slow down, you’re movin’ too fast...”
Ride my white horse, and I’ll make you a saddle
fit for a king, and my hazel eye and my green eye
will be at crossed purposes no more, hope-full-y.

Come on! Something’s not right here! There’s a
crack up in the sky waiting for a thunder bolt,
when a loving heart should have been relaxing in
an oasis of beautiful, uninhibited mutuality.
1982