I want the man who folds into me
like his sleek new Lamborghini,
touches me reverently as he steers
miles beyond our jagged city
to vistas unraveled by oceans,
fulfilling his epic-hero quest,
testing how my body holds him
with sharp curve navigation,
how it leans to caress shoulders
as starshine shimmies off my paint
while he’s lost in indigo midnight
praying hard I’ll take him home,
where the only sounds he craves
are my 12 cylinders pulsing
& the bridge for “Born to Run”
arching its back in the moonglow.