Boxes of Lust

Leapt into by mating animals,

the boxes of lust delineate

the streets as wooden cages

taming slugs or pacing beasts

using family brands of compassion.

The unique sets of keys

each of us owns to a destiny's ark

were dreamed and deeded fruitless

and placed in an atheist's drawers

in favor of chocolate coated wolves

and brief erotic teases in exchange

for security. Parents would serve loins

best by merging their children

through property rather than hiding

a son's claws in a bouquet or placing

cleavage on a store shelf for men

to wear as mustaches. If the lions

don't lie belching lamb, the most

the neighborhoods could offer other

crated cowers and roaming singles

is a variety of private kindness

grudged against city and town

and random dead end passion

sired in the back seats of cars.