braids of nylon, soft brush of breath,

and a fistful of hair

she is my captive, though it is I who does her bidding

nibbling my way to Nirvana

where all is lost

and sublime

 

I pander to her instead of watching the infomercials

telling me how to grow lost hair, have 4 hour erections

and ignore all the side effects

of missed opportunities

and poor financial planning

 

intimate patterns on skin….drawn with bad intent

in a good way

wet, hard, slow, soft…

breath in

and savor the moment that hangs in the air

like a home-cooked meal

 

tie me up, tie me down

on the road to Shambala

reassure me that you have all the movie channels

in case things don’t work out

and we’re only left

with ourselves