Games with Frontiers - A Boyish Rapture

Surviving the routine knowledge of parallel worlds - a semi-erotic poem.

His balls are now bouncing, pick up some jacks;
The cavalry’s horses - clothes off their backs.
A housewarming party, those tables with snacks -
Closets are dry cleaned, shirts in new stacks.

Layered in sunshine, a smooth marmalade;
Ice tea, drunk sweetly, pouring in the shade;
A snookering shadow now smiling - that blade
Of freshly mowed grass just met a parade…

A man drove the highway of honkers evincing
An attractive unicorn, contrived and convincing.
Her showering grace simply poo-ing and rinsing;
He delves into her stall, loins never mincing.

The newest, just paycheck, a vaunted, clean sum;
In his comfy, old sofa, sipping tequila, gin, rum…
Happy together, with his love’s rhythm drum -
Magnificent rapture, a pulse never glum.