Beauty

I see her walking, full hips and breasts,
Providing curves that speak directly to the
Testosterone laden brain buried beneath the “rational mind,”
But not nearly as deep as I had expected.

Here I am, gaze affixed on this woman,
Watching her as if she were food
And I had not eaten in a week.
As I watch, I become certain
That she would be the most
Agile conversationalist, we would
Share many interests, including raising
Some of the worlds most beautiful children;
Fair-haired, sparkling eyes, and very, very smart.

I watch her closely as she passes my
Early morning breakfast nook, discovered in
My brief sojourn to the big city.
I struggle against the arrow that Eros has
Flung so casually in my direction
As it plays against my heart strings.
I work hard to chew slowly against the
Ever increasing rhythm of my heart,
Willing a calm demeanor on my face,
Lest I lose control and begin drooling,
Lest I run after this perfect stranger and
Stretch the fabric of social propriety to the breaking point.

She passes, and each step she takes makes it more certain
That this fantasy will not be,
That the rational mind is right in its assertion
That the fairy tale cannot happen, will not end
Happily ever after.

In another breath, she turns the corner and is gone,
This goddess of perfect form,
Never to be seen again,
This momentary realization of
Beauty.

by Kenneth Baker


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Narcolepsy

Golden liquid, suspended in crystal,
Held in contemplation while
Lounging before the fire.
The flames dance, causing the
Liquid to achieve a comfortable glow
That is shot through
With the occasional spark
As the fire essence of the liquid
Tries to take on more than
Its current slumbering form.
The sparks sit in the eye
So that when the eyelids close
The sparks are found in that sometimes darkness,
Iridescent bolts, almost quivering
While caught in this ephemeral trap.

Lips to glass the slumbering fire is
Finally taken in, the smoky trail
Gliding across the tongue and
Down the throat, almost quivering
As it finds its way to the belly
And joins the sleeping fire
Carefully banked there.
The accumulated warmth slips
Over the embankments, slowly spreading
Down the arms and legs till the
Whole body is aglow
And the mind drifts off to visit
The poppy fields of sleep.


by Kenneth Baker


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