sexy

Pale lips flutter alight,
Mouthing phantom praise, saxophone coos.

The flesh hung from supple
Cords, taut and handy,
Brown and luxurious.
Molded of wet clay,
Glistening and heavy, pressed
By gravity onto textured chairs.
I felt the compulsory
Touch of thickly rolled
Thighs against me.
The glint of the onyx eyes
From under lashes and hair
Signaled something like the
Bittersweet tin of semen.

Hair bobbed and framing her
Eyes like the flaps of a tee-pee.

Her lips are soft, full, and round and
Press softly into crevices and trace
Hills and valleys leaving waxy trails of
Lipstick and the texture of her lips
Like fingerprints Identifying the
Writer of the letters

I noticed the silver tin wrapper of
The Lifestyles condom you hid in
Your transparent Armani handbag.

I sat there supposing
That the foil would
Open for my use-- its
Silken present my
restraint.

A centrifugal head-spin,
A cowering dyspepsia of spiny
Thoughts and dissections
Pitches me forward.
She parts me easily
And plunges in with barbed wire
And bottle cap love.

A hateful lovemaking:
Golden fog perfume and full lips,
Shimmering gold skin appeals,
Then cuts -- bleeds
Long and red down my back.

Flesh grows hard and white around
The blackened blade in my back,
The jagged handle protrudes. Still,
I am unable to remove it.

Agony. Ripping pain,
An arched back,
A howling scowl,

Contraband heroine;
Ice packets, ice prophets.
Plumes of iridescent
Neon and platinum shimmer
Like blacktop mirage;
Curving glass hums against
Flickering butane rockets:
Blue and white edged by red
To white, to gray --

Explosive brilliance
Of boulders tossed into a still pond.
Circles of blue and black
Distend out forever --
Disturbing pageantry:
A gentry with esoteric delusions,
Of substandard highs and
Irreproachable lows.

Deranged phychobabble in three stanzas.
Thrown chairs shatter, raging lunacy howls,
And the Mossberg speaks in twelve-gauge shot.
The lifeline death; her breath is
Sweet like flowers,
Her one night stand, eternity;
She glides, in gossamer gown,
And stoops, thin fingers lifting the
Hard White stone.