his saucy sussuro fills my plate
a dozen waiters pour their wine
up to my ears in fine jewelry, food, and fellows
lulled by a lilt from the terrace (where we dine)
northwards, on, and up to the sky
chorus of ciao's when i enter, entrée
sly escort of eyes when i exit, arrivederci
dip into my spanish hips, tapas there
my table is wide with room for todo and tutti too
i wind and wander like wisteria
and my hair smells of the mediterranean
see, as i eat his pillowy lower lip like cannoli
my cocoa dusted eyelashes lowering
he's seizing me like a smaller, younger country
but his salvajismo makes the whole thing
that much more dreamy
melting into his hands like mozzarella in the pan
he barrels like a buffalo through my virgin land
it's hot breath brûlée along my flushing neck
the attack from which no one can nothing protect
