i click-clacked down amhurst
tea-sure like alphabet st
was written by me
like wonderwoman i was
and every boy
wondered, wondered
why i smelt like
sex and who i was
sex in the sex with
well, i’ll tell you for
free (i surely am)
and no mistake
i was in the sex with
this new shining black-
haired top we
shall refer to as ‘magic’
hot and soft as
profiteroles
sparking through my days
like a crackle and
BANG
with the trickling red
fire and dark brown
kissings each
one round and smooth as
a mortar and then the
pestle what
kills me up
and opens me in bits
you bites my lips in
ouch and thanks
and cup me up and siphon it
won’t you
come and have a go
if you think
you're
