Midnight Special

I'd been in the dark for so long I ached. 
He cleaned me up.  He knew my needs.
Tense, nervous palms caressed me,
then eased.  I lapped his strong fingers,
broke down at his table, came apart
in his hands.  He soothed me with oil,
pushed his rod in and let my hammer
shutter.  I took him in as he worked
each orifice with tenderest care, 
filling them, one by one, until 
we blew the face off his wife.

Guns don't kill people, 
passion kills people.
Shall we outlaw passion, 
or guns?


-dp-
2-10-85 / 4-2-13