We assault the drugged sleep
of the day, full of courage,
praising the supine girls
on their chaise lounge, each
eyes creased weary
from the night's labor
of mint infused drinks.
The troubadours are in the toilets
perfuming their loins
and we as players
find the place
just littered with ass.
We've chosen this place
to carry us to bed
hearts attended
friends destitute of love
gazing on the same dark pool
my face mirrored in your face.
Don't tell me
you can smell the water
or the future.
The pool is not a sea
but sometimes it feels like it
trying to cross love's shores
the ferry sunk
but the seduction complete.