i can't imagine what lies beneath
your panties, but i am willing to try
i wonder what dances
under the shifting elastic
that stretches the synapse
of my crazy libido
i want to paint landscapes on the canvas
of your pants and sculpt lawn ornaments
with your whispers
in a impish attempt
to find a new direction
through threads and fabric
do you ever think about those crazy kisses that
drift through a stream of conscious yesterday
that never did transpired
not even in one tender pucker
nor did they explode in a calcophiny of lips mashing
it is year away from what might have been
yet those kisses do exist in a moment
swallowing up heat
in a minute by minute
confrontation of thoughts and belief
of what lies ahead