On envoyages with a friend Part 2

She Calls:

She sees your eyes,

your thirsty eyes,

peak out from behind your sleazy words.

Your hands, broad as cayak paddles

Run smoothly over the curves
Of long, drawn-out s's

As you roll like a kitten through your vowels,

purring as the r's bump and tickle you playfully

Those words

Even the shampagne blushes in its glass,

As you stir in the syllables and have her drink.

Drink those words,

Those greased-over sounds.

But not this time.

She gags against your innuendos,

Your participles.

She spews them on your jacket

"No", she says as she leaves.

The hurled words raw and stinking on a silk shirt

This time she didn't swallow it.

Didn't expect that

Did you?

________________________________________

I Answer:

Oh, your Chamomile toungue

laziting long in the sun

Squeezes out a wine divine

My my, she's riding fly to a superstar high 

in a literary realm of cool,

But raising the floor to the cooler below

She rides into her domain

to rule.

A healthy smattery of insane

Matches clattery of pain

worked by hands you adore.

Now roaming down icy

Mind blued up and spicy

She's everything you'd want and more.