For instance,
I could just stop
right now,
and dress like a thief,
or take everything
and
drape myself
in mauve robes.

Sing your praises,
wish me a good demise,
empty those heavy bags
full of treasure
and drench the world
in silence.

Oh, I could see it now,
if I tried,
I could see it now,
if I tried.

The velvet quadriceps
and thighs,
the spindly fingers
and their amber warmth,
the tiny crimson tongue,
and it's legs striding across my chest
in conquest.

But then,
I am not stupid.

I am an instance;
a t-shirt flapping
on the clothesline
with all its infant sounds.