Meeting Mal

I just loved,
The way her legs made an a*s out of themselves.

She could've danced with grace,
But she didn't dance.

Merely perched upon a bar stool,
pool Que in right hand and cigarette in left.

She sat like a man.
Which oddly turned me on.

Chestnut curls falling from a hair-tie.
Pants too big and little make up.

Silken skin,

It ignited a fire in my nether regions.

If only for just one ride,
I'd lie down.

"Can I buy you a drink?"
I wasn't nervous.

"Eight ball corner pocket,"
slighting me as though I hadn't spoken.

That pagan spirit of hers,
She wore a man's clothes.

It only left more to the imagination.
The slight divots.

She was no w***e
And no saint.

She kept treasures buried,
Deep within her loins.

An abyss so sacred,
No man could attest to have ever seen.

Reviews

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Oh now this is delightful!