That Night

Confessions of a Motown Lover The first night we met I was drunk on Jagermeister and passion. My palms were sweaty, my breath was heavy. my voice was lusty. Many-a-time I tugged on his ripped jeans, threatening to leave it more ripped than jeans. We talked, enjoyed cocktail hour and made flirtatious glances and remarks. … More That Night

For the Culture

Dear Motown lover, I absquatulated to Narnia To see gold ensemble of war ships, north of the loch ness To feel the straddling orange warmth pacify my bosom and finesse the taste of smooth jazz and Scottish scotch         I couldn’t hide from you, though I’ve been exiled Your rouged bearded face … More For the Culture