Asking For It

Asking For It 

Here is my finger,

you know the middle one.

The nail is 

freshly painted,

a lovely lilac hue.

Just for you.

Here it is, 

at the end of my outstretched arm. 

I present it to you

from across the tree-lined street. 

You asked for it, you

begged for it, I knew

you wanted it.

I wrapped it special,

just for you, 

in that dance my friend made up

for some guy she knew:

Wiggled it

waggled it

waved it around.

Just the way 

I know you like it.

I wasn't sure what to get

for someone like you,

someone I barely knew.

But oh,

you let me know

what I should do: 

"HEY BABY!" you hollered

from the other side of the road. 

Just like that,

I didn't have to guess.

Then, just in case

I couldn't take

the hint: 

You whistled.

Loud, clear,

all I had to hear. 

So here, here’s 

a finger

my finger 

the finger

just the thing for you.

Too Soon Moon

It is winter
a moon in the afternoon
a dime of gray
candy floss across the sky.

It brings to mind
the day's impending demise.
And though the day isn't done
at the stroke of five
the moonlit say otherwise.

All feels at an end
the sun won't rise
resume its shine
in the A.M.

When I was small I hated
being put to bed before
the sun's curtain fall
when light trickled in
mocked my lights out
blanket to chin.

I loved the winter's soon-rising moon,
how it aligned
with bedtime. It diminished
fear that I was missing
a downstairs din
the day was done.

Now, a moon in the afternoon
is chased by stars, the dark.
I'm not afraid of the dark
              but
it comes too soon.