THE STING

My kind of street........

I love the little pick-me-up

of a slap-splash of aftershave

on my nicked neck…


of iodine seeping into the fresh

cat-scratch: the surge, the crescendo

the climax of the biting sting…

 
Such a relief!

 
I’m like the tongue that discovers

the newly-chipped, razor-sharp

cuspid… and then throws itself on it

 
like some blood-swollen breaker

lashing the coral reefs at

full-moon high tide

 
repeatedly, endlessly

mercilessly,

for days…

 
so go ahead…

rub a little salt

in my wound

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