Black Leather
I think I’ve lived another life,
Black Leather is my secret vice.
Its smell is faintly naughty…
On my skin it feels quite nice.
I think I was a wild thing,
Sorry I can not tell for sure.
But when the Angels motor by…
My thoughts are not so pure.
My dress is so very proper,
My deportment just a dream.
I will not cuss or take a drink…
I’m so boring I could scream.
But I think it wasn’t always so,
Perhaps Its really just some trick.
Faint visions keep me up at night…
Yikes, I think I was a Harley chick!
Purely fictional! Inspired by a goup of "riders"
..at least 100..that passed me on the freeway.
..at least 100, that passed
me on the freeway.
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2009
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