You finish the last spare rib, <br />rolling the bone <br />between soy-stained fingers, <br />whose touch I know so well. <br /> <br />You nibble up and down its length, <br />sucking at succulence, <br />tongue darting, teasing, <br />eyes twinkling as they catch mine, <br />juice dribbling down your face. <br />You lick and nibble, <br />you suck, I dribble. <br />I know what's in your mind <br />it's in mine, too - <br />but for now we must be good. <br /> <br />You giggle: I sigh, <br />and rearrange my napkin <br />so your husband won't notice <br />(as I have no gun in my pocket) <br />how very pleased I am to see you.<br /><br />Wild Bill Balding<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bone-2/
