Five or six shots of espresso
through no demand of my own.
Perfect end to a commute
with a worthwhile jumper.
playing “Sing Out” by Celtic Women
Steering a curve at 65
with my knees
heading into a bright orange sun
south of the dark cityscape.
The jumper was good!
and turned out to be,
blessed of all,
a woman and brunette
and I imagined her
to have big tits and
a wet cunt.
She did when I was done with her
at 85 miles an hour
in a chess board
or lattice comb of opportunity,
focus, and nerve.
She’ll get better
if for just remembering
how her wet cunt
got dusted on Thursday morning.