Oh!

How romantic!

Rating farts at midnight-late

on a scale of 1 to 10!

Chuckling whether

“That One!”

was a 7.5 or 8.

Or at 5A.M.

(the rubrics subject, now, quite flexible,

though the readiness is all…)

but the need to pee,

taking precedence over any other

“bodily function”,

halts

the lusty production,

“Honey! Hold that thought!”

till my wife returns to our

queen-sized play ground,

(the gurgle of the flush, fading,

we giggle at the noise),

to continue the joys

of healthy married life,

as girls met boys

since Eden

Our time together

surges before us,

pulses forward.

Oh!

The currents flow!

Now,

surely, a 9!

Maybe 9.5!

And,

come Heaven,

clouds for pillows,

Ahhh!

11!