I want a surfboard
hard used and worn
wounded by years of
being flung on the sea
I want it to live
propped in my doorway
as if waiting for me
to ride off on the waves
I want past lovers
who number in hundreds
from exotic places
of which I wish to have seen
I want them all
too suffer in anguish
for want of my love
and wait yearning for me
I want a body
unblemished and supple
of bounteous proportions
and youthful appeal
I want to wear it
with pride and affection
immense satisfaction
for the universe to see
I want adventures
mightier then pirates
more passionate then knights
laying love at my feet
I want the world
and all of its beauty
caught like a moth
in the flame that is me
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