Dingo the Dissident

THE BLOG OF DISQUIET : Qweir Notions, an uncommonplace-book from the Armpit of Diogenes, binge-thinker jottings since 2008 .

Monday 29 October 2018

Foot-fetishism ?

I told a very boring 'friend' that I got cruised in the big park where I take my dog, Asterix. 
By quite a sweet guy who told me I was handsome and kissed my hand.
My acquaintance said:
"I suppose getting cruised in the park by a sweet man made your day."

I said: yes, a bit, but unfortunately I have got to despise men so much
that I am well beyond having my day improved by a small,
not to mention mere,
sexual advance. 
I'm pretty sure I won’t hear from the handsome chap who cruised me.
 But I’ll let you know if I do. 
He reeked of chemical product.  That would have to go
before "intimacy" could "take place"
or occupy emotional-sensual space.
What makes my day is sniffing Asterix’s feet in bed. 
Delicious!

I’m going blind and deaf and feel all the time
that I'm slowly dying. 
But there’s always Asterix’s feet to buoy me up
and save me from senile sighing.

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