excalibur 27

i mix the words

in degrees and proportions



there is pace and rhythm

and the all important

implied scenario



of you dragging me into

the recline of your motives



there is the disco ball spinning

over your intimate dance floor



the sip of beer

the culinary delight



the tactile shimmer

of your kiss



but the words on a page

are not the potion

that gives me

the rapture of

your passion



and the attainment

of your expectation

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