1. Highlander
By Trisha Barry Copyright 2003
His thighs, wrapped in suede chaps, hug his Harley.
How blindly he rides, horsepower, manpower,
all toughness. He calls me Sweetie.
He craves kindness but refuses soft kisses.
He says, none of that, but keeps coming back.
Reddish-blond-haired thighs. They hug his Harley.
For him, I pick apart my classic edges,
strap on skyscraper stilettos and racy lingerie.
All toughness. He whispers, I love you to his kitty.
He travels down a highway of his own choosing.
I adore him. His kisses send me, as do
his sighs. His thighs snuggly hug a black Harley.
A man's man, burly as a redwood tree,
long-haired, he is, like a Highlander, seemingly
invincible. He says, Sweetie, I'm an alcoholic.
To him, I'm just another chick to complement
his metallic eroticism and cut-off denim emotions.
He cries when his kitten dies. Off he rides on his Harley.
All toughness when he calls. Sweetie?