Stooping to a groove, I drop down thirty feet and knock on the door—Mama, I want more! Buzz me inside your penthouse paradise with wine and ice. You know I’ve been delirious, perhaps insidious about life decisions, but I ask you to listen!—Instead of throwing dishes, you interrupt and allow me to be licentious—how delicious! Even coating a melting face with cherry blossom kisses, whispering white lips though a crescent loop. Fertile breath sprays a steam among this raw room darkened in dank. Quite frankly, I thank you for the opportunity to enter your community. Drunk as funk on a Saturday night of Marlboro smoke, light as strokes against a canvas face, we’re hunkered in the bunker, garbed in bed sheets—just as friends, let’s meet in China at the epicenter of your queen-sized mattress: holding, sardonic sins sing you to a provoking—oh, man! I roar, Damn you for being so easy-going, as you keep going.