Oh so many a lover I have had,
many with quirks galore.
I feel if I divulge tales of good and bad,
the sum might equate me to be a whore.

But with humor in mind,
and my so sad recent track record,
as I am now oh so sweet and kind...
forgiveness to me I'm sure you'll reward.

Here is just a sample to whet your appetite,
I hope you enjoy the flavor,
and have erotic dreams tonight.


My first would not divulge his last name
no matter how often I would ask.
But I did not mind the game
I just wanted him to perform a task.
We did it at the drive-in,
Bronx Warriors on the screen,
I just wanted him to dive-in
and talk to me obscene.


The second I stole from an insecure drunk,
her man a slutty ice cream vendor.
On her couch we did the slam dunk,
when she left him to go out on a bender.
Nothing at which to guffaw,
nor too kinky.
Just against the law,
...statutory.

He used to call me Pooky,
I suppose from the ol' Garfield strip.
Too many drugs made him spooky,
and he never came back from a trip.


A young stud from back east...
from heaven he was golden manna.
I sure enjoyed the feast,
as he was tied in my bandanna.
We listened to Scorpions,
and made out in his car.
I loved to hear him speak,
leaving out the "R"

Pasties made of Dorritos
on each nipple was a chip.
I would stick them on with sour cream.
I would watch as Jim would strip.
He would like to make me scream,
tickling with his tongue.
We liked to get a motel room,
I feel sorry for who had to get the sheets wrung.

One man wanted to make love
that was full of finger lickin'
Hands are great without a glove,
but minus the KFC chicken.

Marcus loved me and my family,
at least us girls... all but one sister.
He had not known there were more than three,
and to his remorse he missed her.
He stapled all his hems
and took took too much LSD.
He had eyes like gems...
and a smile so sexy.
He liked vacuum cleaners,
and I formed a bit of an attachment,
but when he liked others watching...
Away I went.

One fellow got a stiffy,
and shopping he'd have to go...
I guess the only way for him to get off,
was spending all his dough.

One young man kept coming around
not wanting to leave my pad
When I made love to him
he seemed so very sad.
He crawled into my bed,
hard in his underwear
I took him there and then
but apparently unaware.

Maybe they were bizarre, or perhaps they were a trial?
Some now afar, I think of them and smile.
Some more intense than the other lovers...
each so very different underneath the covers.
(damn it's been awhile.)
Some are gone forever, some without a trace.
But when I review all the play,
I am the common bent in place.

Maybe I'm the one that's crazy,
and I've frightened away the sane,
It all is kind of hazy...
but at least its not mundane.

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