Josie Slammed That baby down To Third gear,
Three on The Tree,
The 63’ Ford Falcon going faster –
faster, Than She ever had.
Chestnut flying, car paint and Thick hair, Similar Shades
blending, as if a banner in celebration
of upcoming Silver Tidings.
She couldn’t – no, Sir – with a Shake of her head and an upside down Smile That blew on down
The highway –
get There fast enough.
Fast enough. She wanted
His lips, his eyes, his words, his
Josie Smile and Then She groaned. Soon,
Soon the man’s heat and Slinky
would be Shoved in deep packets inside her,
Touching and vacuuming her
and Searching her pink Sucking Soul.
And oh That groan That only Josie could grunt up.
And oh how he desired her deeply, She knew.
Far more than he would Say,
his dark Smoldering eyes burnt
into her fornicating-Thought-filled forehead fancy
That. The man was crazy! The pen man, he
could make crazy if he felt Threatened –
if he wanted to protect what was
his. Mind was the ultimate match for her –
heat, her own merry heat That came from This most
dysfunctional joy ride.
given her Skin-pricking shivers and grey matter Tickles with words like
precipice, pacifist and passive-aggressive,
oh, She could See it
Yellow lines blurred, frown Turned upside down –
when he quickly quoted Emerson, she came!
And when, oh God, when he
Spoke of Beatlick Joe
her belly did lift up,
again and again, in a quietly quivering quandary –
As if his wild and witty words were some kind of Satisfyingly Tantalizing Tongue Tonic
and would ever be a reason to Stay.
They were. Her
upcoming Silver Tidings. Damn him for knowing.
Tires Screeching – She almost missed The Turn.
Up and up Josie’s breath did
rise. Co-habitating with the cumulonimbus puffs
She pondered The coming Storms.
So close to him, oh, So close to him She
got off at the right exit and floored it.
She could Smell
Sane. Mad animal scent,
mingled with his myriad manuscripts.
Marveling at The rain That fell from the angry clouds
crashing and Shaking The
lead-paned, Stained glass windows
Josie watched her lover of words
roam Their brand new country house
in search of Sassy Script Starters.
He nefarious, she wickedly equal,
comfortably for life. On her knees
her love. Each morning –
She breathlessly begged,
“Phrase phuck with me.”
Pleading and Twisting, legs Spread, Two lips
A menacing Temptation. His receptive half-Smile caught her
Tulips blowing atop The desk from where
Was her laptop?
pulled him down, her wordsmith and love and lust –
To The floor near her waiting