September 16, 2015

her black cat on parade...

Peter Martin – Figure #1, Greenwich Village Nudes,1951 ©

her black cat on parade

she said she was Mary Magdalene 
in a church pageant once
she made it seem 
as if she didn't want to be seen 
as coming on to me 
but coy plays both ways 
and I was more than 
a willing participant 
in this game 
of chance and take...

I went from hoping to spy
a nugget or morsel 
to masturbate with 
to a slack wheel fisherman 
with an ugly stick drop 
of the line, letting currents feed 
into her sense of mystery...

there was no history of entanglement 
just the instantaneous chemical override 
of enough wine dulling our common sense...

I was much older than she...
maybe she was into soon to be 
museum pieces of interlude...
nude with grey chest hair 
and dare I say 
an invigorated sense of ribaldry...

yes my dear you can press my buttons 
all that you want but first can you 
crawl back across the room 
pretending your life depends upon it...
curl your bottom lip and tilt your head 
let your hips wander in a slow bit of, 
I wonder what he wants to do to me first...


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