ripe

ovulation time, when eggs swim everywhere, blinding me with desperate need

a week of wandering through my days  in a half-drugged state of maddening arousal

men transform into perfectly cooked steaks – especially the seasoned ones who’ve weathered fatherhood

hungry time.  ripe time.  vulnerable time.

a good time to stay home but every cell in my body strains to get out, get laid.

soon this will pass, just like midsummer passes, and I will be in control again

but for this week, the goddess dreams.