i've been waiting
to give you my name
for longer than the summer season.
you've said all the right things
in daydreams
so few and far between.
and now that you have it,
does my name feel
as hot in your throat,
as yours does to me?
just one smirk
and i'm pinned to the wall,
panting like a mutt,
my tongue a dead slab of pink meat,
unable to let out any dashing thing,
my weakness for you
so obvious and plain
in the shadow of the streetlight,
the cards turned upward,
all suits revealed.
babe,
you got that look,
the one that makes
a mourner out of me.
put a wreath around my tired neck,
i will never be
your fascinating mystery.
