I’m in the mood for a lesbian lover.
Someone witty both over and under cover.
She should have a smile that charms,
worn lightly over an intelligence that alarms.
She should have natural tits,
but I’d prefer that she shaved her armpits.
I’m in the mood for a sensitive femme
who’s got soft hands with notes scrawled on them.
I’d like one who’d read me Keats and erotica,
who enjoys red meat and a little sexploratory exotica.
We’ll lounge in bed, nude, for as long as we choose.
Then go out shopping…for fabulous shoes.
I’m in the mood for a sassy, Sappho girl
to romance as sweet as a butter candy swirl.
I’d love her until she could no longer think.
I’d immortalize her name with pen and ink.
We’d drink apricot brandy until deliciously tipsy.
I’d worship her, and she’d worship me,
until the morning, when she’d get up, put her clothes on, and splitsy.
