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