Magpie #46 ~~~ My Love's 21 Matching Gloves ~~~

Her powers; undaunted
Her soft kid leather gloves
subtle yet strong
left so precariously
laissez-faire
dangling on a wire
limp as the credenza
unattached this unbridled
wanton lust
of a Wonderwoman

As they sat, still warmed
by the fires of ancient desires
The Porsche's engine starts to purr
waiting for another go
around the palatial estate

As the gloves held each other tight
enfolding into each other's skin
as I look now at them sitting there
perhaps somewhat deflated now
an anti-climax of sorts
after all celebratory flings flung
years and years of bringing bling
to the tables of desirez
she once young a blushing bride
with cheeks aplumb and plump
all pumped up now in stilettos
and ingrain'd leather
remembering his fragrant essence

She cajoled herself laughingly
"those leather phermones"
she thought
was it him or her
as they knew each other so well
"New English Leather"
or "Sandalwood Musk"
or his favourite on her
Freesia...pure as the driven snow
a gift from her groom
to last a lifetime
Love would never lose

And so each were self-made by a society
that made everything
they had made their bed
now they must sleep-in
as the hangover lurched like
a sprung waterbed
leaking their secrets
all over the floor

Each said such subtle clues
wouldn't give away all
"Hold back" the floodgates wait
Persephone's finely classic looks
chiseled profile of a woman begot
yet not everything is so simple
decomposing attributes caused
a rethink and a remake
a delicate flower once claimed
by all-too generous suitors
now the top layer crack'd
how'd she find her way back?
into a fine patina
which reminded her
of Mother?

For all those times before
when they had made mad love
behind the open door
his firm Adonis figurine hands
took his in hers
confirming their pact
in a thousand different ways
The Act in Two Part Harmony
blended together the yeast and flour
his goat skin so soft and strong
like being him
she knew his ways
as coffee-talk over mocha's
that year-long month of Sundays

He was always given gloves as a Christmas present
which harkened back and uttered a threat to her
his broad attachment to the Broads of Broadway
His attention always seeks her
finds her in places she had never been before
He always said "She is such a fine form of a woman"
"Inside and Out" she is the most I can become
as The Baker" stirred the doughy batter
to prep for the party at midnight
"Something else is rising in the kitchen!"
said Persephone
"What is your desire?"
Adonis added his favourite party favour

like the lighthouse beacon
awaits the sailors of the sea
See me, Hear me,
I am man and I Love to roar!
The Man of The Sea
tonight would see in
The New Year 2011
somewhat
besides himself
his lust for her
hadn't turned to dust
It was rock-hard solid
and waiting in cue
for the Midnight Hour
and their matrimonial bed
of conjugal bliss
thank goodness for extends!

As the gloves waited to come off
as they always eventually did
and for the constant comments
the blantant reminders
the interactive connections
of their friendly chit-char with
a bevy business contacts
personal conversations on cellphones
and decypher'd emails gave a tint of a hint
yet no matter the others attempts to oust
the roost from the nest
they were eternal lovers
still imbued with the scent of each other
their love linger with unquenchable latent longing
no matter all their friends wanted to be with them
to be them
to hold them
to have them
as their own
a possession of sorts

their remembrance of long-lost passion
afield in bright red and blue went out in glory
the steady guiding power behind the wheel
she steered the course, as she had set the table
as their blood-kin the hounds in the kennel howl'd
like Thurston
He wanted it all
and all of them knew him
some in the Biblical way

She combined and blended with all these
on this new eve
those caught briefly this throne of temporal pow'r
Superwoman as Catwoman
Superman without Clark Kent
silly bash fullness, shy
always longing like the virgin boy
always on
as Superman
always is
one on one
like peanut on butter

Non-plussed
Unrepentant
Coyly
Suppine Lois Lane in blackish-brown leather
and 1920's flapper
quite a flap!
never a flop
always a flip flop
as another year turns the page

As all primed and ready
frilled and frocked
to wine and dine
and say goodbye to 2010
unleashed a fury of liquid luxury
demonstrative of finite ownership
cylinders and chatelaine fobs
clink and clank like long-lost chattel
lock, stock and barrel
she owned all of him
or so she thought

he would notice this fine form
this classic silhouettes of a woman
She thought
"Aah, to know him again
in the Biblical sense"
without gloves or fear of unleashing
Pandora's box of who knows what
Jason's golden gloves came off
The Champion of Her Cause

As strong, marble fingertips singed her earthly flesh
making for ooh's and aah's to reign supreme
making her sing like a fiery little red canary
from the Greek Isle of Wanton-Lust
she thought to herself
"Moist dew of desire
I mustn't" she said
"Give it away!"
would she or wouldn't she
tonight would know the score
"Yet..."she pensed
"...he needs me so much more than I kneed him
My Greek dough-boy"
She considered, "I'll hold back..."
"keep some ol' bubbly; that Meade nectar on reserve;
For this night of the Bewitching Hour
The Twelfth House; and His Number is surely up...now...
"He is Mine!".

As she giving much to get such subtle assurances
her advantage
always
Love 21
Love 21
How she could conjure magic
said gleefully; "Gee How I Loved all of his 21 Gloves!"

Never could get enough of them
Never would
as all those who had known her knew
21 Gloves in Various States of Patent Desire
was her latest offering at the studio
where studs came and went leaving behind
something that they normally would not want to give
a parting of the closest thing to touch their closest
thing, a glove of sorts, "no matter where", she thought
Already Owned by various parlez players
She Is A One Woman Man however
He like a flea would jump here and there
she knew
did he ever know that she had known
his addiction to this number?

Clock Strikes One
She Has Won
21 Love Glove
2011
The Golden Gloves Champion
The Campion de Champion!
The Contender Upset
like the Last Temptress
Devoured the Competition
like a jungle panther
she licked her pouty lips

Suddenly
the slap of dominant rawhide
across the dash
"It's him
Lord of Stash!
My Main Man
The Pump House Gang-Banger"
Men mostly came and went
she stored them all
in the Glove compartment
This man was her refined deportment

AS she
The Most Masterful
player of the game
Gently Revved her engine
"Purrrrr...."
drawing a fine line
the steely Porsche nearly drove itself
down the winding driveway to the gate
as the gloved man waves
"Good-bye"
distally from all points
and inbetween
their arched templed porch
left vacant
save for Love
that would return
its' volley one day
maybe this year?
HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011!!!

jj