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Peep Show
Do not think me dull or sappy, dear,
Or, worse, effete. I'm not. I'm thrilled
To watch you shed your clothes. The
Harshness of the hallway light is
Perfect for the dance you're doing,
So salacious, such a perfect segue
From our proper date, our first.
I hope it's not our last. Our beef
Was splendid. Was it not? And
All the wine, which entertained
Our tongues is now amok inside
Our heads, and, anyway, I meant
To say your dance is segue from
That altogether ordinary 'get-to-
Know-the-woman-you-were-hoping-
To -lay-down-upon' to truly laying
Down upon, but, dear, despite your
Mating dance, despite my drooling
Desperation, tented pants and
Eager hands, it was the way you
Spoke to me, the simple smile
On your lips, which led me to
Lead you to shed your clothes
Beneath this light.
poem
by
Lawrence Beck
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