he wouldn’t kiss her
but he’d screw her blind
slam her with poetry
blowing her mind
thrusting with phrases
up against the wall
spotlight trained
pants around ankles
no whispers
or platitudes
nothing empty
everything full
bursting with life
coming with applause
she’d scream for more
he’d softly rhyme
she’d cry out
exhilaration
he’d repeat more of the same
streams of consciousness
trickling under skirts
Latin and nonsensical praise
leading to a finale
starburst poetry
where skin met skin