The Wakeful Pleasure Seeker

Lying awake
I take
Stock, as the tick tock
Of the bedside clock
Does measure
all pleasure
And pain.

The joy I gain
From Sue or Lou
Passing through
Pausing only too …

A girl’s discarded shoe
Thrust, carelessly under the bed
Speaks of lust
Long since dead.
The dust
Will have its way
Tomorrow or today.

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