My lover’s love gave her a ride
to visit me in college;
their coupling I could not abide
but it was common knowledge
back at their campus, hours from here,
and though we reunited,
I suffered from that manly fear
she’d join him when invited
to ride again (they often do)
till graduation day
would break up their heartfelt duets,
sweet music they would play,
their trios, quartets, and quintets,
and put them all at bay—
this interrupt of rutly woo
would send them on their way.
A lass and lack of inhibition
kept their flame aspark;
they’d meet indoors or start ignition
outdoors in the park.
Of course, someone was on my side
(or “on the side,” they say)
with whom my loving skills were plied
till graduation day.
My latest love gave me a ride
to see my love in college
(our coupling she might not abide,
it wasn’t common knowledge,
not here nor there, just laissez-faire
until we reunited,
I hoped she wouldn’t know or care …)
and so, I was invited
to ride with her to see her beau
on graduation day
where I’d learn what I didn’t know—
the music they would play;
duets, quartets, a long rondeau
where wolves would rut and bay,
the ladies dancing fast or slow
as rhythms made them sway.
That night, while banished to the car,
I watched them through the dark
as graduates from near and far
would join them in the lark.
The love who’d given me a ride
had planned it just this way;
all day and night they’d slip-n-slide
on graduation day.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
The location and activities have been changed to protect the poet.
Ken Gosse prefers writing short, rhymed verse with traditional meter usually filled with whimsy and humor. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, since then in Pure Slush, Home Planet News Online, Spillwords, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and others. Raised in the Chicago suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived in Mesa, AZ, over twenty-five years with rescue cats and dogs underfoot.