stroking the bar Red Tie Polka Dot

drags his palm across the fine face

cream of a man far more marred

belligerent free-flowing turbulent

tongues through his pearly whites

down Pursed Lips Closed Lids’ throat

begging Forbidden Fantasy Wet Eyes

darting downwards to avoid cheating

in games pinned against the wall

tension drawn back taut in a sling

limbs raised in absolute surrender

barred from stroking Red Tie Polka Dot