Ginny

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 see ladies glow, brought to special evenings, we are their reality show, cognac turns breath bitter, even to hear them dcream, brings only idle tissue, beneath all their boasts, they know what Goya's seen, richer softer pillows, wine bread falling leaves.