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Kim Novak
Ho Kim Novak!
Here again on my creaky
bed. Springs all dead,
now just Swedish wooden coils instead.
Bite that soft bottom lip.
Lick.
Stare.
Excuse the crude place,
the kissed pics of your face.
Your flesh is much better
than a snap.
Warm legs crossed, caressed.
Shadowed low eyes
looking at me.
Sure rock pose.
Tight as a robot,
as Heracles might.
The tail of your speech,
is a scented delight.
The hum of my video and bare wire light.
My own echo extends.
I have too many friends.
Yes. Yes,
I am very happy.
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