I often lust for someone

Whom I think is pretty neat.

And if I were in bed with her

I’d nibble on her feet.

And then I’d work my way up

And lick her on her calf.

She’d prob’ly start to giggle

And tell me that I’m daft.

But I’d keep going northward;

Her words I would not heed.

I’d stroke on her inner thigh,

While I kissed inside her knee.

When her breath came unevenly

And she began to sigh,

I’d kiss up even further

Until my tongue was nigh.

The little nub I’d circle,

And nibble with my teeth

Until she cried out, pulled my hair

And pressed up from beneath.

I’d enter in her sanctum

All warm and wet and smooth

And whisper softly in her ear

Kind words, meant to soothe.

I’m sure we’d both start moving

To an ancient well-known dance.

Wow! Visualizing all those things

Makes hardness in my pants.

I want to tell her what I think

But without sounding crass.

If I write some doggerel

Will she think me an ass?

Having now begun this task,

I’ll see it to the end.

I can always save as a file …

Oh shit! I just hit “send”!

*The cover photograph was taken by my grandfather in Baltimore City, sometime in 1948.