poem

SinTax

Creme-filled expectation
sweetened and sifted onto your lollipop
tongue and bubblegum lipstick,
over time, in blocks of cold-packed
imagination and puckered thoughts
frozen for ice-age eons up
brick-layered steps, around the lazy
concrete corner, down the easy alley
of your lathered desire
as she dances, tip-toed, around
the stripped, striped maypole
and the furrowed horizon of your soul:
honey-dripping lips.