Boysenberry Aeroplane
Won't you fly away with me
in my boysenberry aeroplane
you green sweater goddess
looking like a librarian
working in the library
catalouging and checking out
check me out
scan my code
tickle my fine
and lay me down in your wet, cold bed.
Come fly away with me
Amberlee or Heather Bee
you most glorious fox
whatever your name may be
there you are
pressing keys
and smacking gum
your mouth working so inviting
your eyes strewn behind those glasses
let down your hair
and let's take to the air ...
Across the ocean blue we'll fly
we'll soar wicked and insane
in my boysenberry aeroplane
put the cup of wine to your lips
you have such big, alabaster teeth
your fingertips so sweet
you could kill a man with that body
you could kill a man with that taste
not a moment we should waste
crashing down on Cuban island
warm, sandy beaches
armed militants watching us shag in the sun
baby, another glass of rum?
I show you coconuts
holding them like breasts
you smile and cross your legs
the milk squirts across your cheeks
you laugh, you giggle
and then we wriggle
in the sand again and again ...
The beacon on the runway swirls menacingly
a spoon of radiant light stirring the horizon
we stare into the fire on the beach
the crackles of Cuban wood like pistolas
pistons on your chamber burn again
as the engines of the Boysenberry Aeroplane
fire up and make wind ...
off to another place we go
South America go-go
Rio and Sau Paulo polly wolly
pole to pole we roll
your tongue stuck on my throat
tender hands ruffling my sweater
the weather better get better
or we'll surely starve in the sky tonight
my green sweater goddess chapped and dry
my bookworm baby -
thanks for teaching me to fly.

By mr. werther

© 2003 mr. werther (All rights reserved)

Read more poems by  mr. werther
Send this poem to a friend
Read 3 viewers comment(s)

The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home