It seems he's been down this road before
where the boxcars and painted faces line
the closet spaces of the long dark lite alley,
Something physical, maybe metaphysical
partakes of the feeling and shudders its long tail
out across the dance floor, splitting the side swigs
the taunting glares and the sweet dialect of honey
Till her face hits the platform of his being
and standing there, he awaits the moment
dazed to the long slender legs and the sweet curves
Like milk and honey the fragrance fills his carnivores nostrils
putting pep into his step, he strolls where the dew began its fall
Eyes fixed the deviance fills till soon the girls eyes flutter back
Convinced of the attraction, the words flow, the laugh and giggle
the mannerisms spent in the circle fills the glass to the brim
and overflows where hands and tongues engage, participate
in the long run down that fine line, the cleavage but begs his constant
enticing fingers their delicate stroll, the embrace seals the pact
Smiling his conceited grin runs the tales of the waggers tongues
Hits the spot on a Saturday night, when thrills seek the eager
dreams drown the losers and his bite fills the air, husky to the musk
He draws the partitions stare and lays her upon his bed.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph