I have always been a material person;
I enjoy the good life.
Smooth satin holds more fascination for me
Than raw burlap.
But beneath this complacency
There is a streak of sun-washed denim
That defies convention,
A vague irritability,
A roughened hand that snags
My silk-clad thigh;
A minute flaw that
Once noticed, cannot be ignored.
Although I marvel
At NASA’s ability to give me
A man on the moon,
In living color, and high definition,
I am more enlightened
By your ability
To give me back to myself,
In softness, by candlelight.
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