White left over production nails
Dancer boy said Lemon so many times
He fell for me so fast, everyone
Lays their head on the bar
To agree or disagree
You gotta leave me,
Tomorrow.

And I’m so use to being left
Protecting my heart & my head
Shedding vulnerable tears in your arms
You speak with such grounding sensual
Freedom, you believe—you believe
But I just can’t have
Anymore ghosts, haunting me.

Make love to me.
Make love to me like I’m not number
34 or 35
But we both move our game board—
Pieces across the table—as you
Look at me.
So sweet & you say
“I think you are too brilliant for your own good.”

I get wet just thinking
Of the wise witty things
Your perfect dancing mouth
Utters.
But I challenge, twist, run
With my shields surrounding me—
Lets let go, you didn’t know this morning—
If you could give yourself—
To me.
Its not just ***
Its not just ***
Its not just ***
Look & hunt & find
Me when you return—
Even if I’m with the wrong man
But I know you will always understand.
But if you wanted to ink
My name in cursive
Where it would perfectly
Lie among your muscular
And valiant hips
I could cover you in whip cream—
Make you forget every woman
You ever knew before me.

“He can write poetry with you.”
A best friend of mine said.

Lemons are multipurpose.
Sweet little Cardinal, devour me.
   Please.