What I Want

i don't want to be her dog
i don't want her as my head of finance
chief of fucking domestic operations
i don't want to be anything but her lover
blow her mind and blow her doors off
i want to be her radiator when she is cold
i want to cool her down when she is hot
and burning for one man
i want her to let me
and anyone in the next room
or in the next apartment
hear from her throat and lungs
and mouth if i make her feel good
and on arrival have the consignment
Feeling good should be allowed
Allowed like the damning long days
slow time feeling low and melancholy
lacking a young soft woman
a long time down now the craving ends
in ecstasy to holler down the years
in a bedroom on a single bed
i don't want to hold back either
because I want her to know
i'm not the secret service on assignment
doing it at last before the buffoons from
KAOS arrive
with you there will not be covert action
i will not be a source of central intelligence
when the feeling heads straight to my brain
and I decided to take down the headboard.

i want to hear her say "i want to see you"
then I'm fine since getting there is half the fun
the anticipation
the excitation
the time she's
at the door on a night I'm hosting
as if it were the savoir faire personals
but only for her is my credit good.

I want to be the man of the hours
I don't want a woman to play with her mind
I notice so much more inviting places to play
I don't desire a house plant,
a catfish from middle eastern north America
and not a fountain full of goldfish to
eliminate in.
Together a beached mermaid and I
can bathe together in intimate water
that runs down the drain
let's make it warm
Because there is so little time for together
her hands, eyes, her hair and face all over me
I'll watch the white soap suds slide down
her fair pretty face, shoulders, the slope of her
breasts while the water falls. The water falls.