Felicia

Old men who need women, eat calf’s liver and greens, something clings to them, the pity of night groans, a cool breeze seizes, the dread of being alone, worried they appear timid, that skin clings to bones, their desires know no limit, want to make ladies glow, bestow love every evening, bars are their only show, cognac turns breath bitter, even a prosthetic gleam, btings no disco glisten, beneath the idle boasts, know what Goya has seen, richer softer pillows, wine bread falling leaves.