The Song of Sam
He who was named Sam said sorry.
She looked astray, inviting naughty.
He sat down; she sat up.
"Why are you here, Sam?"
Because I knew not what to do.
So it seemed like a good idea - but
maybe not from the look of you.
Still, here I am.
Not too much, just a smudge.
Bite your lip, but don't bleed.
Chew the tip off that straw...
just the way I like it.
Look like you want to, but look away -
let me find my way to you.
Misty, remember that song?
We heard it once, with you tapping it on my collarbone.
Whiff of sweet nothing.
Dream of me, all yes but half-way closed -
eyes smell of coriander.