They said –
we had sex
beside the brook –
atop the rocks
beneath the trees –
inside the caves
while sitting –
but mostly standing.
The irony is that – we never had sex
touch of any bumps – or at least a kiss
coz a fence and a brook – stood betwixt.
“Innocent,” said she with head low;
I with head high, then she with high,
with palms together – kneeling so low,
turned our green vegetable love
into a brutal slaughter house.
That’s how it is,
mountains are often made
out of mere mole hills.