Mind your Ps and Qs

I’d Love to sit down
in a worn dining booth
just to have a meal with you
pick your brain
watch you maneuver
twitch and tick
chop sticks or forks spinning
would you smile
or giggle
bat those eyes Blue
neon bright
knock me right out of the park
into the car window
of a vermillion van
smashing with such finesse
home run
even with Casey at the bat
 
would you order seconds
or get crippled
caught in conversation for two
slurp your noodle soup
build towers out of mashed potatoes
talk bad about the waiter
catch or throw compliments
blow bubbles in your drink with a straw
carrying you to the next subject
clear your plate
clear me off the schedule
or even show up
 
when you put on mascara
do you let your mouth hang open
gazing in the mirror
applying to lashes so lush alerady
or close it prim and proper like
 
would you attack me
climb on top of me
with your blush brush
dabbing my face
leaving me smelling
like the very essence of you
hold my wrists down
stare into my eyes

would we even make it to the restaurant
 
or even the parking lot
 
would you even get dressed
or coax me into bed
with your sexy jutsu
your looks that melt
the faces right off of stars
running with sparklers
trying to spell their names
before the sparks expel
burning in the purple nights negligee
even the ones off Hollywood boulevard
or melting the bulbs
right off the lit up
Tennessee theater sign
on Gay street
just above the box office
 
wearing just a shirt
maybe mine
possibly by force
torture by ice cube play
just before the cover of darkness
takes us
as victims and lovers
longing for touch
embraced by the mattress
with white floral print
growing up the sides
slipping you into
open arms
open me like your favorite candy
from a package
postmarked
just for you