Titillated

These flights of fancy

color my world in bold

brushstrokes of eroticism,

lush sensory details about

textures and flavors: rich rough reds, deep velvet chocolatey greens,

slippery barely opaque oyster shades of creamy white

cascading into the depth of pink,

violets longing to beat their pulse

into purple yes stretching through

miles, state and county lines,

state troopers be damned,

black the blue until it’s indigo,

midnight—deeper than the last echo of a molten velvet explosion of camellias,

littering the landscape with

crimson petals, slick leaves,

and juicy pomegranate seeds.