ANOTHER BLONDE

ANOTHER BLONDE

another blonde fits on the scarlet robe,
through the fissure of a slightly ajar door,
the world drools, salivates
glimpses of air-brush desires,
witch on a burning stake;
naked mistress on the patio of a French chateau,

flipping the glossy page's nudity
with a taunt tongue,
she looks like Marilyn, lying sultry on the couch,
the distance is measured,
the lighting adjusted.
her legs are play dough,


to be bent in a more teasing, for
a more painfully teasing spread,
tossing her golden tresses out of her eyes,
into your face, sticking out more rude tongue,
wetting her red lips, wetting dried bones,
sovereign right to be, this maddening desire.
{/center}