I Still Don't Know How You Taste

"I still don't know how you taste."

Like summer rain,
fresh like a mojito
with extra lime.
Like creme soda, rich vanilla
with an effervescence
tickling your tongue.
Salty as evening sea air,
moist on the lazy breeze, brushing
your hair from your face.

"I still don't know how you taste."

Like the bitterness of a broken heart,
malt vinegar coating soft, fleshy potatoes,
warm and glowing golden.
Like sharp English cheddar
melted with cream, served over toast
warming you inside out.
Rich as espresso at dusk
dark reflecting the light, which
speckles the night.

"I still don't know how you taste."

Like the Aurora Boriales,
lights, hot sulfur springs in the night.
Like sun dried chipotles, smoky, hot, hinting
of sweet fruit, beneath smoldering embers.
Angry as the voices trapped in bone dry timbers,
ready for the spark, that sets them free.

"Still, I don't know how you taste."

Poem

You fuck me because
I let you

A knock on the door and I
let you in
you haven't a key

You fuck me because
I let you

I take your coat and toss
it carelessly over a chair
you haven't a hanger
the old lady down the street
keeps one for me

You fuck me because
I let you

You tear my stockings
You eat your fill
I stare at the ceiling
allowing your thrill

You fuck me becasue
I let you

You show yourself out
letting the door click
but not before you leave greenbacks
on the window sill

You fuck me because
I let you

One day you will come and find the
the door locked and no answer to your knock

Or I will sit in the chair and wait
no knock on my door
but for now

you fuck me because
I let you.