If I were a puritan judge
I’d have you burned
bra-less on your fixed-gear
slinky blouse perfectly hung
from phenomenal breasts
nipples marbled by
the breeze of motion
surely you are evil
as you stir evil in me

My wife and I would stand
our fingers interlocked
wind whipping black gowns
as the sun hides it’s head
and the coming night
is made orange
by the light of your last words

If I were a puritan judge
I’d have you thrown in a lake
swerving in and out of traffic
with your pagan bumper
stickers proclaiming nothing
as angry as you are
at cars and at god
I’d have twice the anger
towards someone like you

I’d thumb back my hat
tall, black as coal,
feel the sun on my face
and drop a fishing line
while I waited to see
if you float as wood
or sink like stone