Lizzy Burnam 🐞

When we walk in nature, the animals 
show themselves to us. Widower. City mouse.
Boomer. I am not mainstream anything. 
Thespian. Milk-drinker. Barefoot beauty. 

I enjoy chasing nymphs and young women
through the woods and meadows. Singer of songs 
with windows down at red lights. Food lover 
(except for raisins). I smoke cigarettes 

and drink beer. I like bluegrass and breakfast 
in diners, coast to coast. Bootleg and bold
in New York City. Cool nights by the fire. 
Let’s roast marshmallows. Let’s turn up the heat. 

I’ll sing you a song, build you a house, cook 
you a meal. Kinky, lonely, single dad
seeking good company, partner in crime,
groovy hottie-tottie with a breadth

of knowledge. And please, no drama, mama. 
Ha, the emptiness of some people’s heads!
It’s spring and it’s warm. Fire seeking match. 
Seeking witch with alter, herbs, oil and 

amulets in just the right moon phases. 
Someone sweaty-palmed and open-minded. 
Someone slow on a typewriter. Someone 
sexy, skeptical, and strong of shoulder. 

Both of us happy, carefree, locking eyes 
across the ferns, springing into summer 
bloom. You might be a treat in the morning
when the sun tickles your body. My rose, 

my thorn, lonely nevermore, the moss 
grown thick, dripping with pleasure. I’ve dreamed 
of your hands. Who the hell are you? At last, 
daybreak in your arms. I’m soo-oooo ready.