Liberty

At first the reels
ran like fratboy
fantasies on Friday
nights with tawny
brown curls liberated
from the bun and draped
over the sensuous shoulders
of the lascivious librarian.

Stop me if you've heard
this one before maybe a hundred
times or more since your hand
first found the tickle under cotton
sheets praying Mom and Dad
were too preoccupied
with their own squeaking
bed to pay yours any mind.

Tortoise shell eyeglasses,
designer frames for sure,
eschewed along with her blue
blazer and skirt, white silk
blouse, lace brasserie and nude
nylons with tears running
like a river of dreams down
her child bearing hips.

A couple of nicks and five
freckles like the little
dipper along the left side
of her shaved pussy
and I am smitten for life,
just another sucker bound
to Polaris like a hound
on a leash of stars.

Now every night finds her
nude with the shine
of Venus like a sugar
glaze on porcelain skin.
Her nakedness keeps coming
to mind over and over again,
wetter and wetter without
even knocking anymore.

Breasts like peeled peaches
topped by half a cherry
like some fancy, for a greasy spoon,
fruit cup swimming in a sweet syrup
of fructose sweat that my salty dog
of a tongue longs to lap up and down
and up and down in 4/4 time
from my cheek to hers.

The voices in my head
carry on conversations
all through the night,
no sentinels of conscience,
just codependent enablers
spellbound by her gyrations
as she makes like Jennifer Beals
in Flashdance and I nearly drown.

I'm shy, though, and at ease
with this afterhours tease.
Just a few singles really
in a trillion dollar industry
and lust shall remain
within the bubble of my brain
as I've swallowed the key
to anything ulterior.

The suits with coiffed silver hair
pound gavels and pontificate,
not content with the mature
audience content lurking in
my mind a mere neuron away
from a sex fueled frenzy
that these old boys
know a thing or two about.

I read rumors
all over the internet
where thirteen southern
states pledging to tighten
their bible belts to make
these imaginations illegal.
The other thirty seven states
and Puerto Rico readying a tax.

I'm just going to close my eyes
real tight and dream my ass
off in pursuit of happiness till
the right to sully myself is cut
from my cold and gray carcass
along with whatever else the right
failed to pillage and plunder
off my flesh and boner.