Pink High Heel Shoes

by Dónall Dempsey

I remember drinking
pink champagne

from your pink
high heel shoes

I remember making love
with you wearing only your pink
high heel shoes

I remember
how your pink high heel shoes

became candleholders
ashtrays
(where you stashed your hash)

deadly weapons
in a row

& you ask me
do I remember

your pink high heel shoes?

Do I?
I do!

________________________________

You bet he remembers.  And remembers.  And remembers.

I find this poem uber sexy, since I have a thing for high heels and happen to own a few pairs of pink high heels.  If you don’t get it, just think about it. 

Think about lying dark in a cool room. Naked, your hands to your side …. your eyes closed as you’re Mistress/lover has instructed.  Hearing the door open, the click, click, click of her heels on the hardwood floor.  I think you can take it from there. 

And if you can’t? You need to call me ASAP! *wink*

Mr. Donall can be found here and keeps a blog here.  Listen to and watch a Poetry Reading here.

Thanks to PQS for sending this uber sexy poem my way … he does indeed know what I like.

xo, Angela

Yeah, we’ve got MILFs and GILFs (mothers and grandmothers [respectively] I’d like to fuck), and now the lovely Ms. Palin:

While I am a Barack Girl, I gotta say that McCain’s choosing Sarah Palin is the smartest thing he’s done so far.  The republican party is suddenly sexy hot. 

I’ll leave the pondering of what all this means to the political bloggers.  I just am happy to sit back and watch it all unfold.  And to wait for the day coming just around the corner when no matter which way the country votes history will be made. 

In the meantime … come on guys, fess up … isn’t Sarah Palin a Veep you’d like to fuck?

xo, Angela