By Jesselee Whitson; Ollymarie@AOL.com
Date: 29 June 2000
why i'm in love with lester:
spittle
on the
griddle
fly the ever too terrible
tickles of this one.
this one who subtracts
me with his eyes,
unzips to thighs
that sauce over like the
lust of tide on
sand
and then
a hand.
this one.
who seems to know
i am a virgin.
well no, not still a virgin
but a girl-
yes sir, still a girl.
and i make
no sound
as the heat floods
down. though i
think i'm in
love with old
lester.
but no word
or noise. no i
bear with poise
like a woman
who art in heaven-
as i much prefer to
feel his handle on
the round of hips
see his eyes that
dock like laden ships.
feed on his lips.
and steel the slips of
wicked chips
of tender twists
of lester- there on the
in side. sizzle on the
griddle like baby boy
giggles go the terrible
tickles of this
one.
Back to the Blender Digest