Boots and a Dress

I have just the boots to wear
for when I dance atop the jukebox:
the pair with the low heel, a wedge,
and rough leather zipped together
up my calf. I turn off my telephone,
let a soundtrack drift through my nostrils,
and smell the bud of an orange blossom
in this Florida stand-still heat.

I bought this dress: a yellow cotton
hour glass, a little slinky, with ruffles
like butterscotch sticking to my breasts
and got turned on by that couple
that kills everyone but one another
while wearing the dress without underwear.

Dress and boots together, I’ll drive a car
with your head between my legs,
you cramped between my feet,
enjoying the shoe soul against your bare chest
and my heel knifing your stomach;
I’ll drive all night and make your mouth hurt
more than watching me fuck another man.

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3 Responses to “Boots and a Dress”

  1. morganne Says:

    kind of scaweeey!

  2. bodhitsattva Says:

    Fuck you.

  3. bodhitsattva Says:

    Not really. Just, baby voice.

    This is not for babies. This is for Mallory Knox. Hahahahaha.

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