1975.   I'm lying in bed in Baltimore on a Sunday morning
in early summer sunshine along side my love - nude,
spent, stoned, Mozart flowing from the living room, my
beard wet from her bearded bush, spirit & flesh happy,
satisfied, glowing - when i hear the words 'cannibal saliva'
whisper through my mind, and I laugh out loud at this
mutant merging of my cannabis sativa stone, my cannibal
eating of the lady, her juices, my saliva.

I didn't have to write the poem, just write it down.