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Love and sex
on the Upper West Side
just a short
subway ride,
The number 1
2 or 3
a couple blocks
and I will see,
The door man says
have a nice day
the eighth floor
what can I say,
Ring the bell
hope for the best
she’s wearing nothing
not yet dressed,
Says come on in
would you like a mug
grabs a robe
gives me a hug,
Gives me a kiss
and a hard-on too
she seems eager
and excited, too,
We drink our coffee
tell lies and fact
she just returned
not yet unpacked,
The robe she’s wearing
is barely tied
translucent silk
sitting side by side,
Was she in Paris
or was it Singapore
the trouble with travel
is we always want more,
Just like sex
we never get enough
whether slow and smooth
or fast and rough,
After awhile
the robe drops free
on the kitchen table
she does me,
Then I do her
‘till she screams hot shit
remembering how well
together, we fit …
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