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A Poem for Paul

Here I am spread eagle
on your turquoise bedspread.
Run your fingers beneath

these Calvin Klein underwear.
Reach for my scar burned
as a baby from a Sunbeam iron.

Tongue between your toes.
Reach lover, through the cracked unlock door.

Creep in from the built in porch.
Tiptoe over chrysanthemums,
my mama's heels kicked off after church,

past the coffee table,
an archive of videos where I wait
defenseless, exposed to your slender mouth.

Reach for me through the glory holes.
Reach past the porcelain Siamese cats.

Careful, don't knock down the glass
of watered down soda.
Reach for me past the fat stacks of Playguy.

Join me on the floor
of your limousine as you reach
in your tuxedo pocket for a condom.

Can you see me,
can you feel my fingers
running through your golden blond hair
like a giddy schoolgirl?

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