Blue Jean Dream Poem by Frances Madrid

I have a weakness for denim,
the way it wears you
like a deliberate attitude
of long-legged insinuation,
sculpted with passions,
and filled with breathless, puckering,
pinched seams of expectation.

These indigo bleeding sighs
strain to utter one question...
'Will you still have me,
with all these threadbare remembrances
and over-laundered visions?
Or would you leave me here to dream
of claiming Tarzan in denim jeans?