- Erotic Poetry
- sometime this century
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the parlor game that is cyber sex
phone fucking
finger licking into a two way mirror
such is life on the ranch of tender raunch
so saddle up with whips and chaps and clamps and chaps
for the long and thick dusty ride over hump and lump and
issuing forth.
we all discover the tender spots,
the delicate whimsy of tickle and poignant pain
between these two places and those four folded flaps
if I, of all people deprive myself of the want,
then you spin on that golden egg and I watch
out my window so now have plenty of time
to clean it in and out,
on ladders with rags
on holey socks tipped toeing
so cute, all tense thighed
brimming for the thing spread
there tied
