Sweaty Palms (Psalms)

Sweaty palms

Slide against the car
Like a brush on canvass
Sweaty palms
Hold her face
As her hair goes windswept
My lord, reap this needless malevolent grace
A black cloud of desire
Keeping sullen pits of dripping, seeping limits
These inexplicable rims lining tins
Of tobacco shards and addictive grins
And the faces far inside
My lord, the curves of her body
As I round each bend
Stricken with mirages of oncoming traffic
This chest of mine
A huffing, puffing brown bag
Sucked by that calligraphic, whimsical woman
That croons with her siren swaying
A formidable lust
A tantalizing bust with cherries held high
For my lips to cup the tongue that extends in one single try
To caress, events that remain wet
A final fret embodies the well-behaved pet
A sit, stay, roll over kind of lay-down sort of,
Open up to me, that’s all I ask
Let’s not remain framed and contained
By a society hell bent on games
And the plain “same”
We’ll forget this
We can stay inside for the sunshine
And have a picnic in the rain.