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sylviasmother.mid

Sylvia's mother put her
daughter on the train, John
Fogerty's beauty, Sylvia's mother
kissed me in the rain,

Sylvia's mother put my
lover on the train, I had
bite marks on my neck where
Sylvia's mother's mouth woke me
in her daughter's bed, "I listen to you
and her on the monitor I hid," she whispered,
Forty-seven, Sylvia's mother heated my thirty-two
years, taking my hand and pulling me away to her bed, 

it takes an effort to say "no," so I
didn't, it's all the same water, having
made it countless times, Dr. Hook and
the Medicine Show plays Sylvia's Mother,
her stylus in my groove, smooth, we started four
hours ago, not stopping for a break, we run cupfuls,

Sylvia's mother placed her head
under the sheets, she devoured my
sweet cashew pulp channeling lubricious
in my pink pleats like a butterfly on milkweed,
and I had never been so high on pollen that blew
cries in Sylvia's bedroom, the baby monitor backfiring
the intensity of lust, and Sylvia heard the highs and lows,
what do you do besides whenever a train passes, is sip
your beer, feel the vibrations, and think of what to say next,

Sylvia's mother put her
daughter on the train, John
Fogerty's beauty, Sylvia's mother
kissed me in the rain...


Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater