Walking through the park
Trying to catch my breath
I am struck by the realization
I am allergic to sex
Yellow billowing clouds
Of dried up jissom powder
Falling from the half hermaphrodite
Looking for a flower
The beauty of the reverie of
The trees are getting it on
Bacchus dances with the blue jays
Another verse to the ancient song
It brings my eyes to tears
Sad to say though, I’m not crying
I’ve been dealing with this for years
Spring, to me only means medication
I ponder for a moment the symbols
What could be the deeper meaning
But I get no response and my nose
Tells me it’s time to concentrate on breathing