(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Ice Cream

at sight
of delight
at touch of lips
who made you
sweet maid,
laying slyly
yonder in the
cool bar bins

smell all over
your body
soft and supple
as I lick you
up and down
hugging me
with mounting taste
oh my dear
too sweet I swear!

Heart of YOurs
disheartens me
as I know
you are half way through
in a frenzied urge
I kiss you down
to touch the crap
of wooden cups
all ended
before I could
even think of
just a lightning streak
you went through my beak
before I decided
you faded.

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