i miss wearing your kimono

Girl, it’s been so long since you and I talked. And I must confess that in the ensuing time since I last heard the dulcet tones of your voice, the flowers in my garden have seemed a little less colorful. Food has not tasted as good. And I can’t listen to our songs until I get my stereo back from the subwoofer professionals at Best Buy. Seriously, what’s taking them so goddamn long, girl?  My lady, you know that when it comes to the language of intimacy, I am only fluent in one dialect, and it involves weed, Teddy Pendergrass records, and tons of eye contact while we gets down. Although you’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve recently added candles to the mix. I’ll leave it to your imagination whether I’m gonna fill the room with the erotic Christmas-y aroma of peppermint, or the sensual spicy cinnamon bouquet of pumpkin pie the next time we meet.

While I am away, I hope that you will not forget me, or think that I have forgotten you. Verily, every night I fall to sleep imagining our next sexy rendezvous, in which we will adjourn to the hot tub after generous servings of stuffed-crust pizza-flavored vodka. Muffin, it saddens me to think that if only we had the sense to go to the back of the wardrobe, we could have been in Narnia this whole time (this metaphor will make more sense after I debut this new sex-trick I want to try on you). My point is that while your absence has been difficult to abide, our time away only strengthens my resolve to one day bone you again. So strong are my feelings for you, that not even the judge’s explicit instructions mandating that neither I nor my fellow jurors contact anyone while we are sequestered- lest the dirty cop that killed that kid while drunk driving a stolen car with a briefcase carrying $10,000 in bribes in the trunk- go free on a technicality, can keep me from expressing them.


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September 2011
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