Wildcat Picnic

just watching him

makes my ribs ache
for unleashed hell..

for it's a rare man
who has the patience
to bleed me dry.

He's at the bottle again
while my emerald skirt
dances madly over the lawn..

He fires up the grub
with a ravenous growl
as my company asks:

         'What the hell is that'?

       That is careful chewing, I smile.
          And he doesn't like me watching him eat.

One of them nods
and tells me
I should make a run for it

Yet I do not move -
           His eyes are that familiar blue

              I'd cling to his back,
               if he'd let me..
      
              We'd fall together
              landing in a heap
              of entwined limbs
              and snarling lips,

              this wet sliding
              eating us alive.

It's times like this
I don't need a translator
to understand his words.

To me -
he's a jaguar in long grass
And I love
the wink in his eye,
the tug on my leg,
and the way he has..

of delivering
bad news.

Party's over, folks. It seems we're out of booze.