Olive green
fix me a martini
when you stir, you shine
and all the syllables flow
down through the pages
as small fish must ply
in the bountiful ocean

two strings to your bow
she coyly remarked
wolverine weaponry
tossing her hair
she idled on

I'm left in the plush air
of a night's writing
an idle pursuit
God granted
feeling for the next stanza
is a call to arms

looking for the cadence
to rectify the machinery
too much in play
beat it out so
it is no missive Jim
words flow like liquor talks
strong is made gut to gut
bringing out the light
shadows cast asunder