Pleeztameetyu / whaddayudu?
If I could do anything, I’d love to be your free flowing hair,
the fingertips of my follicles tickling your constant shoulders;
you, praising my full body to the skies—
I’d shear you clear off like a lamb’s wool in springtide!
or the palmsoftened wood of your habitual guitar
cradled into your passionate lap,
neck caressed to perfect pitch—
Even music I’d gladly banish
if it meant pitching you!
the very odoreaters in your shoes,
if only I could embrace your soul (so to speak)—
But for a day only,
I’d abandon you:
that’s as far as you’d ever get!
then, I guess I’d have to settle on
acting your bathroom mirror,
investigating your secret life
And I’d shatter your face into diamonds,
just like your illusions,
you peepfuckingpervert tom!
(leaving me in that case merely to wish upon
your vacant genital cavity
your manlacking pussy
in your ass be empty as
my harmless romantic fantasies---)