Do you remember when we roamed that night with Merlin?
He led us on a merry chase, his band of gypsy thieves.
Drunk on midnight and Hill Country air
we crept from grove to grove, cavorting inside shadows.
Teeth glittering, eyes narrowing to slits.
Ruthless hyenas, we sang and laughed and screeched.
Starlight giggled us while people tried to sleep.
We skittered through their campfires, sanctified by ashes.
They cursed us as we passed.
I fell into a hammock slung from wild oak.
Obscene and rhythmic pulsing thrust my pelvis towards my lips.
Pure poetry of badness from the center of the blues.
Ordained right then the Queen of Sleaze.
I was proud and fat and full.
We each in our own way made love to the night
audacious as the wild space where Merlin waved his wand.