deepundergroundpoetry.com
@ :59
…..she spoke of a theory,
past 50, sexually dead
Slip, sliding away
down the spiral staircase
towards sixty
(….yep, that's what she said)
as she rubbed and caressed
my "bald-headed-ness"
looking up into my coal-black eyes
my BBC buried
deep inside the
moistened void between
her thighs
rekindling our carnal youth
mouth open wide
I tell you the truth,
every single,
angular stroke
caused her youthful hips to grind
the mad hip-hop producer
mixing beats
sexual tension 'beguine again 2 unwind
her fingers caress
the rippled muscles
along my back
my arms
my chest
the throb of my sex
beating
the throes of her
strong, deep contractions
fleeting
…..contradictions
born of the affinity between
two deeply sensual minds
as I whisper softly in her ear
“I am 59...”
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