In the underwear of faceless women
Lays a secret passage to paradise
A whirligig dream of bliss and semen
Where copulation is never a vice
If you play your lust in daydream theater
Without the mess of a breathing woman
You won’t be called a bastard or cheater
Or a rat or skunk or other vermin
But is sex by telephone worth the dime
Or doesn’t that matter after a while
Is it hotter if it feels like a crime
You get no closer than the keypad dial
I prefer the memory of naked love
The feel of skin as he crouches above
now you're talkin
ReplyDeletewhy do i HAVE to choose a profile
Anonymous works.
ReplyDeleteHi Susan, you have a knack for sonnet flair, the title creates the scene, the words are the heart, this poem is a desire and a memory. as always a pleasure to read you.
ReplyDelete-Michael