Maggie

Ah but this sand

We sit is rich

With clicking light bulbs

Switches on and off

As food for thought

Head down the trough

I tell you of

As we sit in this

Sand so rich

With pockets in

Our hand me outs

Of gems and jewels and rhinestones

Blushing our cheekbones

I guess that one just slipped out

A round about way

I suppose

Of telling you

I had a good date

With a bisexual

Goddess

Has praying to her

That I don’t send her

Over the brink

Into lesbian

Although I have a hard time

With attraction myself

To men

A paradox that can’t help

Making sense