Low Key ( A Allen Night Rhapsody)

How I wish I could go through;
  the doors on my mind.
Those you left opened;
As you sauntered out, without looking behind.

Sitting high up in my glass house,
  I dared a look through the window pane.

And there it was.

Dotting the street of Allen; like clattering pieces of China.
Whispers of passion, wrecked behind closed doors.
Faint whisps of sweaty love makings on late afternoons.
Old Mr Williams, stealing his rusty fat body;
out of your revolving door.

The dim moistness of your feminity,
Still lie embedded on my sweat stained wall.
From when we,  a Man boy,  and a Fortunate Dolly.
Stumbled into my apartment,
   after two or was it six pints of moonshine.
Taken over a slow raunchy conversation;
At Old Bootstrap Bill's Dinner.

I remembered those nights;
When you legs were the northstar
And all you've got was my 'crown' on.
Round one, round two,  you gave me sequels.
Everytime you open your cathedral.

Now you're walting out on poor Allen.
Leaving threads of unstated little Janes.

But did you know Raffikki once sang you a symphony.
  The world was his orchestra;
Little Kidd, his very own Soloist.

Lady, the reverberating essense of you backside,
As it jiggles to and fro,  like two planets,
Engaged in a bloddy warfar...
Is the main oject of my comatose.


#Socially Claustrophobic#

©OCEAN