For A Tall And Skinny Woman

She is
tall and skinny, and
haunting, why
is she tickling me
over the airwaves, the

brightling fell of night and she in
Evanston,
Illinois, liking
boys and more, and

Yet!

She hears those sounds in the night, knows all, the
late night footsteps on the stairs, the
brrm brrm of engines cranking up
in the early dawn, her

nights are haunted with wannabee and she
never knows what she needs and never knows
if it’s there, she is
tall and skinny, she is

pensive and bright and yearning, she

sends a silver
thread across the lakes, bouncing

across water to meet my mild
concern, she

suggests and lingers, she
becomes hot, becomes

(shudderrrrrrrrr)

my woman in the dark hours, my
fantasy in the dark, she

is tall and skinny and perhaps
she has long tanned legs and a bodice
of lace from Lisle and
sandalwood from the capes, and
perhaps

she does not know whether to
encapsulate or bend, to
submit or posess, to

find my silken body in the night and worship with

the faint clove breath of her mouth, the
lovely honey of her scent, the
beauty of her which
takes my breath in a haunting

-30- May 20, 2004