I’m too traditional 
to stop kissing you. 
Throw me for a loop.
Your hair is in needle ringlets, 
but I adore mussing even
pin-straight locks. 

Could you use snippets
to break out of shackles,
steal down to the kitchen
and build a 
fishnet distraction
out of pink cream and pin-up posters?
I live in a mansion
built for two
who insist on space for a thousand, 
but that just means
when we’re done with this room
we can declare it a city state, 
head off to scrub sheets bleach-scented, 
and call ourselves world travelers. 

To be completely honest,
the only ridges and estuaries I intend on exploring
lie somewhere between 
your anklebone Sahara and your 
hairline Atlantic.