How don’t I know what you do,
Walking on your ass-raising heels,
A glance over your shoulder as you
Shut the door, go on now, change
Into something more comfortable,
Whatever that something will be,
I’ll just lay here, patiently, until
You return, heels discarded, legs
Unwrapped of nylon and garter,
Naked, it seems, but look!
You’ve dressed-up your insides tonight,
And that certainly is a nice pressurized
Canister of dried, fruity delights
You’ve got between your legs, isn’t it?