the making of a treasure map

she takes her time with hot
pink lip gloss, she paints spots
on a pale white map from
ear to neck to lips that hum

    the rising surf on land,
     spread seashells on sand

she continues her journey down
from bare collar to pert breast
to navel with fluid strokes around
a ridge of ribs, arched spine, and hips

     she comes upon bare treasure --
     a seashell exuding pleasure

should you desire this treasure --
the mouth of her arousal,
travel south from flush red lips
and trace the promising pink tracks

wet marks the spot