Splashing passion criminals around the block

How The Weather Is The Rate 
of The State of Crimes of Passion

by Joseph D. Reich

dream of the weather
woman on all fours
blouse ripped off
inserting her fingers
in and out the cunt
of her bubble butt
making real butter
like it used to say
on the movie theaters
of times square in summer
stumbling all by your lonesome
literally smelling the hot warm
tar melting on the avenue 
heading back to your lower
east side apartment cooling
yourself off with a whore
bath from the fire hydrant
with all the bums & madmen
& drag queens from the neighbor
hood taking a shower and getting
yourself ready for your blind date
at the polish diner with that girl
you always had a mad crush on 
who works the graveyard at the
pioneer hotel on the border of
little italy & chinatown both
coming from such broken
backgrounds both so damn
lonesome and just needing
companionship for the short
while to hope to heal all past
abuse and drama and trauma
to extend horizons and the
light a little longer and it was
all a matter of how you could
get in touch with her or get
her over to your apartment
in between manic episodes
and meltdowns in between 
making you her savior and
making you a cause to all 
her problems pillow talk
meaning the world...