Cropduster

my thighs
ran wild with
a butterfly hatch,
nights in white satin
with you, you and you,
the aviatrix in goggles
cruised on auto pilot,

Jefferson Airplane
played on the runway,

the horse I
rode threw a
shoe, the forge
was far away in
Cuero, I dismounted
and took the reins, walked
us on in to the hangar,

I made myself
at home, the tin
walls were framed
with Grace Slick and
movie posters of the gals
of The Far Side of Jericho,

she came in for
a landing, the cropduster
coughed, the propeller died,

why do
you fly that
thing so wild?
I asked,

to impress
the likes of you,
the one with three
wives,

her voice
turned to a
slow gurgle like
it was broadcast
under water,

tin turned
to molten, hell
melted the cropduster,
Satan was born from aluminum
tinted a hot shade of red,

he looked
at me and said,
I have a problem
with sexual deviation,
I looked at him and said
I have a problem with aviation,

my thighs
ran wild with
a butterfly hatch,
nights in white satin
with you, you and you,
the aviatrix disguised in
goggles crashed on auto
pilot.

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist