A poem in progress... no prizes for guessing where the inspiration for this one came from!
And they are. I can't stop looking.
One day soon, I'll walk over, zip
into a spare skin, pat the tight
leather gloss of it with my hard red
nails, water tight. I'll do the splits,
juggle flaming torches, walk right
up to the bar on my spiked heels,
order drinks I can't pronounce, fire
my throat and turn to him, ask
if his smile is for me, knowing it is,
and we'll leave, just a flounce of hair
instead of a backwards glance.
I'll know what to say, what to do,
and it WILL be fabulous. Apart, that is,
from those times I won't let him find
the zip, hoping he'll stop tapping, late
at night, trying to feel his way
past, looking too long. One day soon.