Please Obey The Speed Limit

Phone call, La Machine, eyes
crinkled with joy, and sir?
Especially wicked and
Officer Lemley at home.
Black bows bent.
Eyes flashing with
turquoise disingenuousness.
Young blonde head hurtling
past the French doors to
wherever the day leads.
The house, small captor sat
squatly purse and grabbing up my
each other the warm,
even after our
depend upon your understanding what follows: the testament.
Love without it. Is coming,
Media Libia, she said. It’s when a woman’s libido gets hopelessly
lost in the brimstone lit latitudes.

Written for dVerse.


4 thoughts on “Please Obey The Speed Limit

  1. I’m getting an escort image it seems here…

    But perhaps that’s what i expect..

    but no not really..;)

    It must be all those TV shows stored in my memory banks from BISWT..

    (Before I Stopped Watching TV:)

  2. Well the ambiguity here is as wide apart as a pair of legs could possibly be – somewhere between the devil and a pair of fine French doors that overlook the Eiffel tower where the ironwork, looked at too closely, becomes both grotesque and fascinating!

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