A Course For Two
In a cafe
somewhat blase
(I suppose)
A glass pendant glows
above You and Me;
a newly created pose.
Our eyes reflect no guise:
Whisper to me in sweet libation,
drown me in Chianti conversation,
with no pause.
Our lap cloths desire the impure:
the dessert of When and Where
within,
We scoff at the (Maybe)
of decadent bare skin,
never demure.
Dare we continue this course for two?
Finish the glass, my dear:
The blase cafe, no longer in sight,
I propose we collide in Twilight
tonight.
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