wd40 – a sonnet of mechanics
you oil the joints of my legs with your strong hands
you rotate my hips into alignment roughly
the creaking of my pelvis under you commands
your constant pressure, your voice caresses gruffly
unused untried this chassis was long neglected
a show piece rarely driven, me parked and rusting
my engine showing no wear, my tires treaded
I wanted a man who would be ever lusting
you keyed me a kiss that started to filtrate
sputtering and gasping and ardently purring
I’m full with you, and ache for you to navigate
Your voice in my ear enough to start the stirring
You take stern control only so I can lose it
Your hands kneading your mouth wet the cause to prove it
November 14, 2000
