When you say the screw top
Red is sacred, having been
Consecrated by you in private,
I hear communism is dead.

When you remove a chair from my
Unoccupied table, save me, sans
Asking, I feel akin to a sacred violation
Of my coffee break.

When you shake my hand
While clasping my shoulder with
Your other claw, I want to roll
Your fingers with my manly paw
To hear the sound of dry twigs
Catching fire.

When you envelope yourself in
Arms of a self-hug, I want to pat
Your head without the inherent
Patron of inferiority clouding us.

- Paul Handley