Salty Dreams

Aged lions hunt for prey

If they could

But they seek the contact lenses lost

In coitus, and abusing hard

Roar at the stars!

They are indeed desperate

Seeking the carcasses of felines

With split dresses, seeking ingress

Into flesh, toothless. They cannot

Tear anything as strong

On fire, and not caring either-

Well, lion, tonight you may squabble a bit

In your den, in your harem

Some old lioness may wash you

In tenderness,

Soaping and rinsing your mane

In the cage-

We have many things to do tonight

Benign inverted images

Hung like mirages in the desert

And lions, long dead!

Remember the nights

Of emptiness- of youth

On a hot tin roof

Hot on the trail

Of his lioness

Lithe, young and snarling

Tempting, swaying

Baroque, brazen

And now he,

The aging patriarch

Just a year

Until death!