Odd Men Out

It is eight o'clock.
I just drank my second cup.
I'll be up all night.

Seashells from Coney
Island and two tiny bits
of turquoise dangle.

Loofahs, pumice and
peppermint foot scrub laugh at
gender denial.

In the cold I tongue

at the taste of vanilla

a soft sheen on lips

For the best grilled cheese,
buttery sammich elite:
a Brooklyn diner.

What kind of love is
a dogge? A warm, wet love--
the best kind of friend.

Does anyone hear?
Her pixellated pop sings!
An echo, a swan.

He gave me a poem

for my birthday and I cried

in a public place

I am a grandma.
At night I squint at word games.
What's fourteen across?