5 Star

You are 5 star luxury
to me;
your eyes are swimming pools into which
I can settle dreamily.
Your hair is a black satin sheet
slightly rumpled;
your voice is room service on the line.
Your breasts are magnums of Moet.
A hug from you is a long holiday.

Oh, I’m not saying it’s all free!
I’m paying one hell of a bill for your services
but they’re worth every tear and
stray thought.

Your skin is a magic carpet
imported direct from the craftsmen of Persia
(or somewhere like that).
Your lips are complimentary chocolates.
Your skirts are silken drapes.
Your rings are diamonds anyway.


hello baby. do your feet feel good today?
does your head spin a certain way?
does your mouth open wider now?

hello sugar. can you taste last night’s red wine?
can you see the grand design?
do you hear an applauding crowd?

hello honey. may you always feel just fine.
may your head be as light as mine
when the crush of the world gets loud.

hello baby. were you wondering how to pay?
do you know what you should say?
and are your eyes open wider now?