Poetry of the Day

So you want to go to the motel?
Hold me down and call me honey?
You know I'll never lift a finger against you, honey.

Pull up my hair, flowers piled high.
Cool water, garden showers.
Falling leaves and scarves.

Do you like my wallet, big boy?
Used to go to the cinema, where you'd buy me a slice of pie.
We didn't know about money, just worked nights.
And the value of pie.

All I know now is painted nails and sly peeking between sheets.
Every night's drink drips of drool and desire.

Now, you spend the nights watching a bored TV.

All I want is the feeling.
All I want is the feeling.
And it's been a long, long time.
 
So you want to go to the motel?
Hold me down and call me honey?
You know I'll never lift a finger against you, honey.