Archive
04/27/11 - (1)
After Visiting Sarasota's Ringling Circus Muesum
Awakening into a new day, with you, Linda, Whether it be here, in Florida's lush, warm-scented embrace Or wherever our dreams may transport us, Breath to recollection to second-childhood beckoning, Is an event of sexually celestial proportions, Colossal, not-to-be-believed, spectaliciously stupendiculous, As if the circus had arrived, with dawn's cock-a-doodle-doo calliope.
And each time we listen to that massive black buffalo of a locomotive Slowly roll to an overnight halt, catching its chuff-chuffing breath, On the siding, out of sight, behind the monumental main tent, Which our lusty, heave-ho lovemaking raises, just hours, minutes, before, We know that our current show has already concluded And that only the tumultuous applause of our affection's pleasure Will accompany us out of town, to our next destination.
Just now, Scintillating Linda, the Majestic Equestrian Baraboo Beauty, With you dressed in nothing but diaphanous nudity's faceted sequins, Riding bareback, astride me, your prancing wild stallion, We delight in gyrating within the center ring our circling creates, Until our exuberance blurs into a glowing gold halo And all that's left of our intimacy is a speck of spotlight history misses, As it sweeps our circus love under its invisible rug.
04/27/11 - (1)
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