Tag Archives: motel sores

bushfire

27 Thursday May 2010

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on bushfire

Tags

, , ,

I make blow dryers envious. Your skirt
pulled up at night glow glory hole. Breakthrough
motel sores. Open this wound, small pockmark
pats and scratches right above your bushfire
and thigh. What words or harder desire
does the night require of me? A birthmark
down your chin carving grins from your hairdo.
Purple pubes make it worth all the effort.
 
A new love. A new face. A new outfit.
This is it, darling. Sunlight pours straight-faced
while I’m buying a hairbrush. This is it.
I love how you look. I love how you taste.
Purple go-go boots and purple bouffant.
Come on over here and do what you want.