If it wasn’t what we’d liked to think it was -
quite graphically it was the case occurring
well before a chase began or ended baited
breathlessly or caught up in a pace relaxed
and nearly comatose; was it really sex you
mused, never mind, so sensuous, arrested
to a speed as slow as sapid sleep, I liked it
best, so sleekly warm, voluptuous -
we knew the deed was done - cuddles of a
kind invade to mine the lode’s commodious
and covetous occasion; hey, you do agree -
what can I say; if I replied its buried deep
where dreamers dream in endless sleep
© 21 September 2013, I. D. Carswell
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