Peter Kenny contemplates a pharmaceutical offer in today's poem. @peter-kenny.bsky.social @planetpoetry.bsky.social
Viagra from Vancouver I find myself perplexed by Gwen’s email: Pete, wouldn’t you like a giant penis? I stay skeptical, of course—for despite her solemn promise to haunt me non-stop, I’ve had no word in thirty years. But this? Fretting about my membrum virile? I’d expect Nan to leer in my mirror, tongue out, a joke-shop dagger through her head.
