Bourbon or Whiskey

Feeling frisky

To the disco ceilings, platform tiles,
sweat, tangy pits and peachy piles
cologne, lipstick, a couple of vials

Touch me more

tick-tack–Let hips sway!
hippity-hop–tapping toes
light the way, for the paint and pipe,
needles, veins, needless brains

Have some Booker Bourbon

gather ’round, slide a chair
slap, spank, lick the grass
(be sure to share)
spin, splash, stash, and swing
sling that slang the cool cats bring,
give you more once you ring, bling
the neck while they climb and swing

A little lower

ferris wheel, tippity-top,
shed the pink, lose the slob,
bump-bump, move it faster
miss the beat,
roll the seat,
take a stroll,
stick the landing,
pain patrol

A bit slower

country talk, suck some air,
soar high, kiss a thigh,
purr-purr, panty tear
headbanging dance floor
music galore, so the masses
boar against the door to
catch a tiger, a messy liar,
and a lost pill, drop and spill
getting closer to the oil
And when they count, bring the hangover,
Sorry, folks, but–

Party’s over

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s