James Banda(Licence To Kill) Poem by Dickson Wasake

See Mary Lou again,
across crowded dance floor,
with another;
touching,
caressing,
groping,
expertly;
with those nimble fingers,
just like I remember.
Now kissing him,
must be warm wet kisses;
those wild wanting lips,
sending electric like currents,
down the man's spinal column,
not unlike the millions she gave me,
that wintry day last December,
on carpeted floor,
where we first made love,
after I struggled in vain to unpack,
following the long flight around the world.
Pour me another vodka,
2 ice cubes please,
yes shaken not stirred,
for tonight,
I see blood on the dance floor,
yes, tonight;
I got a license to kill.