May I take a picture of you

Right now, without further to do

While you raise your foot up out of your little black skirt

And you slap your tongue like Parler Posey in Flirt


This is not what I'm here for

There's got to be a lot more


The taste of the sweet coffee when it's raining outside

The surprise of the sunrise when you just went out for a ride

Afternoons in the library, peeping about

All tose poems that I've saved but never printed out

That lonely morning on the top of the hill by the lake

I sat and heard nothing but the sound lakes make

That evening I spent in Brooklyn with some arty upper crust

Smoking drinking and swearing like Martin Donovan in trust


This is not what I'm here for

There's got to be a lot more


May I not help you untie and unzip

And just lie, feeling your hair on my hip

Your breasts hang so neatly as you bend over

And they brush so gently against each other


But this is not what I'm here for

There's got to be a lot more