Emblazon Me Please.

Blaze me on your jacket,

boy, the little finger tickles you send

up my spine and cerebellum,

they kill old antebellum skirts

in their eager largess. Enough

definitives, stress, unstressed

feet making time and sense

of the nonsense I make.

Why do I wear lace

when I long for rip free denim hardware,

rip-free and non tear

caked in clean brown mud?

See the curving belly roll

each jean fold

the pucker of sultry jean that calls

every hour or two

it asks if you made it home safe

if you need a ride

did you have that other shot of whiskey,

or did you need to stay the night.

Talk softly.

I’ll kiss you on the cheek and tuck you in

The sofa beds down for the night

having loved on people like you.