Litany

Litany to a Distant Princess; or,
How Arnold Wastes His Time at Lunch

You know me only as a name,
Some words on your computer screen
Where "love" is my recurrent theme
And words like "heart" conjoin "aflame."

But you are young and I am old,
Or older than you, anyway,
And I live very far away
So far that flame ends snuffed and cold.

I warm my hands, still, with your words
And with warmed hands caress myself.
Wish you were here below my belt,
To read Anaïs: Little Birds.

Mere fantasy, of course, and yet
I hold out hope that we will meet
And you'll be beautiful and mete
Out pleasures unimagined, set

In fields Elysian and green
Or in some shuttered, darkened church
Where boldly you will raise your skirt
Before we start that bondage scene

I always like to dream about.
Wow. Guess I've traveled far afield
From love and heart to Man of Steel.
(For I am rather flushed and stout

From this long rhyme.) In closing, Pet,
My Love is yours—or Lust, exact-
Ly, if you hold to point of fact
Which you should not, because I'll bet

I'm not your first, nor will be last.
I am sincere, though (tiny bit),
That when I write Songs to Your Clit
It's love in which those tunes were cast.