Breaking Sun.

I was Dreaming About Yoooo last night, oh Dearest.

Steamy,

Raunchy,

So full of Passion and Lust.

Really, Really,

Hawt.

Yeah, I was Dreaming About You last night, Maria.

Upon the plush cushions of

Thuh LSD Couch

do we sit,

linger between stations,

like the quiet pause between The Semicolon and The Next Word.

Right hand unhinges the top fastener of your jeans,

and the other,

slips under your shirt, strong calloused

Hand rubs against

the small of your Back,

meanders down into the cleavage of your

Bum,

and so delicately strokes the tender lips of your anus.

One station between us,

like the stamp of the conductor upon my chin

dated and signed, yes,

name of the ensign upon my forehead,

and so too,

the mark of my two

Fingerprints,

Bob Ross The Magician, horsehair brush against the tender lips of your anus,

median line,

warm gentle crease of my Ticket,

right along The

Perforated Line,

eases ever slightly further

downward

between the cheeks of your Bum.

Gates are open, and so too are

the doors as they close, unfolded are teeth of your zipper,

warm, so

Gentle,

like the sunlight that fills the cabin through

The Glass Pane Windows.

Train rambles on its way.