Curvaceously defined from
A lifetime's insistence
On skirts through fall and winter.
Knee-high boots and argyle socks tucked
behind me, on my vespa
we'd perch and wait for spring, the thawing
When wind like fingers would drift through your black honeycomb hair
And lift the hemline of your dress
Made scandalous, rippling weightlessly against your thighs.
Impatiently, I would take luxurious glimpses
Of your exposed knee.
And reach around to tickle
behind them with ungloved fingers
We would giggle, say hello to the lights
Of the city growing distant
And bridge like a vodka bottle
And chase lights on Tillary.
Turn, you'd say, then command.
Like magic, we'd be on yet
I never could say no.