lack poem

sadly to say
there are a number of things
I had yet to experience
before my first visit to Europe:
obviously,
the stark presence
of genuine
class; smoking indoors;
refreshingly lax drug laws.

but what lacked
so painfully
where I was from,
was passion—
the dusty kind
with no fear.

the fact that I was surprised
at the sight of two lovers
fighting on a street corner
made me nauseous
and made me want to hug them both,
if for nothing else,
than for reminding me
of what still existed

she was shoving him away firmly
though with such obvious
gentility;

I ached for someone
to throw me around like that
and like it
as much as I would.