One Poem from
We keep rehearsing the sex act,
even variations on a theme,
but don't get better, just take longer.
I wondered a long time why women
prefer little packages of love, now see
they dream-shop for bigger packages.
Those who hesitate, I teach in my in-
formal seminar, don't get laid.
Those who get laid are too busy to hesitate.
The four-hour erection that one product
warns us about made me call my doc:
It's been four hours, doc - nothing
I bought one of those pumps, and
pumped and pumped and pumped.
Now I need a patch for my blow-out.
My wife and I have settled down to
the ease of oral sex: she talks endlessly
about it into my receptive deaf ear.
There was a time when sex was Number
One on my list, but I've misplaced
my glasses, forgotten where I had the list.
Bill Roberts enters his fourth quarter of life with eyes
uplifted, wondering where all the years went. He writes poetry to keep
his spirits up, aided by a collection of wine in his cellar. Bill is
often nominated for poetry prizes, never snatches the golden ring. He
has a few books which might get published this year but asks: does the
world need another collection of poems? Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.