White Wine And Feather Boa Dreams
You wrap yourself
in the feather boa fantasy of his dreams
sinuous you; X-rated and never sated
dancing to rock ‘n roll— 80’s dated
welcome to the conjugal jungle
of not-so-rusted lust
sixty-something-shapely
your 25th anniversary groom
growls a naughty thought
“you could make a young stud sizzle
if you cougar-purred and preened..
..half-your-age ‘prey’
would pray for a pounce!”— ooh!
naughty indeed!
your husband’s a spicy silver-haired fox alright!
but you know..
on this night… in the right light
white wine flying your inhibitions
like a cloud-kissing kite
..that he’s right
your feline hips and rib cage
swing slink and circle
like a gold ring gone feral
at the end of a gossamer chain
— imagination game—
his hypnosis a sexy prognosis
metal music rides the track
—fast—
an insane train
suede stiletto booties
bring the heat
as your naked heart beats
—fast—
a cyclone metronome
beneath man-handfuls
of jelly-jiggle
lingerie cupped and pushed up
confection affection
his sugar-craving
r a v i n g
as you gyrate scantily
you—a flirty empty-nester
a w-i-l-d flower of natural nectar
your home once again a “teacup-for-two”
a juicy seduce-y l-o-v-e nest
your body rocks and talks dirty to him—
skin-tight rhymes in rhythmic undulations
snakey-hips hype your shimmy-shiver-vibrations
with an abracadabra of torso twizzle excitations
and the flaxen-magic of hair-tossing persuasions
Ooo—sensuous you!
sixty-something-shapely
you ain’t no side-saddle gal—noooo…
long black gloves hug porcelain skin
the t a n t a l i z e in his eyes your prize
as you peel satin fabric off slowly—
turning your gloves
and his desire inside out…
you bump and grind
his mind into overdrive
and collect his caught breaths
like paper presidents
in the stripper strings
of your ‘Saturday night persona’—
your persona;
only thing you still wear
(by your last glass of wine)
..that.. and black booties
stiletto-stealth— killer calves curvy
beneath a black leather garter;
it’s silver-trinket-links
draping your thigh
celebrate their oneness with your movements
with ‘glass-clink’ chinks
and champagne-bubble-glints
—s p a r k s e l e c t r i c—
your angelic sinful wink
flashes neath lush lashes in candlelight
as you leave
the dining-room-dance-floor
leading him by the white-hot boa
to your pink bed
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