Take me back

To the fizz, whizz and

Cracking,

Of her popping candy kisses,

Caresses of a dragon,

How the smoke detector’s

Defective, defunct, and dangerously lacking,

In an ice chamber

Built for

Two.

 

Yes my lips still crave the

Burning breath of her

Beretta,

È più che perfetto!

(I’ve taught myself to say),

This pistol, plume thistle,

Please whistle me down the wind,

And I’ll hope to catch

A kiss in

Spring.