3395. PROBABLY NO ONE NOTICES

PROBABLY NO ONE NOTICES

I'd like a good, stirred woman, naked to the waist, 
stretched out on velvet, just waiting for me. 
Someone to love, someone to touch. I'd like

 jello on her chocolate, ivy on her vines, 
water on her pasture, and all the rest  - 

those sinewy, soft, lentil-like legations of

all those crazy l's  - love, lust, licking, landing. 
Hats off t0 Larry, and all that magical matter 
that transforms a life of death to a life that matters, 
or, at the least, figures for better, for something at all.