i am a drone in a beeline
knowing how to get
to your pleasure
with memory & finesse
sliding through outer space
inside your sputnik sattelite
i’m your factotum
albeit a very satisfied factotum
i crumble with excitement
knowing the past pleasure
floating on the tip
of your tongue
i am in an erie
sense of abandon
there is passion and there
is subjective titillation
both from knowing
what you will do
and how well