Man's Delight

I redated this poem from 2007 because I revised it a little. Not that most readers would worry about missing the revision, but it matters to me. She’s grown older now A little thicker, Perhaps a little saggy at the top, Not wrinkled very much Around the neck and belly, And anyway she feels so good! She has a great vagina still And calls me vulgar for saying so, Then calls me a Dirty Fucker In the dark of night and smiles Because she knows I know it! And she has lovely legs, A little full, but they wrap around me fine And hold me so tight—oh! And God her face is—I’m sorry, but I don’t know the proper words! Her mouth is so pretty in every expression, I think she was born to read me the dictionary aloud, Not to mention All of my poetry books, A little at a time! And her eyes are bright organs of great appeal, And though she talks at night of changing her nose, I shrug and think that it’s fine just because it's hers. I find her lovely tonight across from the fire As she leans against the window sill In this small front room Naked like that and so relaxed, covered only by That perfect perfume she wears And the hair on her head and you know where… She wouldn’t make a model any more, I guess; They're all pristine and slim And hairless in the nude shots. She’s just the widowed matron that I’ve loved and adored Who makes me want to remember How to do wicked things with my tongue!