Saturday, July 23, 2005

If you were mine

I bet you can make a mean batch of biscuits
I imagine I'd wake to discover you gone
Wander downstairs to steal coffee-breath kisses
Get out the utensils you'd be hard pressed to find
Pester your shorts while you cut in the butter
Till you shoo me off to sit on a stool
Not long till I'm back underfoot like a cat
Rubbing and sliding till you must turn around
You threaten to grab me with flour drenched hands
So I'm forced to remind you
(In explicit detail)
Just exactly what happened eight hours before
(Upstairs on the floor)
Its my turn now, and there's nothing sexier
Than a man in a kitchen manhandling a pan
Get those biscuits in the oven
You need some AM lovin'
And when we are done we can fry up some ham.

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