Erotic Poetry

Poem: Minnesota Desert

Deserts are green with brush and cacti,
against a brown and tan backdrop ever present
like the knowledge getting stuck outside is death
from thirst, from poison, from heat.

I don’t mind crunching feet on gravel, dirt, and sand,
instead of grasses laced with ticks and so much pollen
snot flood daily, breaths seem heavy with moisture,
and green is everywhere instead of brown stucco.

The wholesome blonde hair of northern forests are nothing
compared to the sun drenched bikinis and shirtless
muscles on display at every turn in the desert.

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