The Lover Poem by james d nall,jr

it doesn't matter where
or really even when
passion consumes us
in the car, train or the bus
it happens so suddenly
our self control seems to flee
you may see us or maybe not
actually a crowd makes us more hot
its the thrill of the lustfull chases
that puts a smile on each of our faces
squeezing into the lavatory on a plane
while others on the door, knocked in vain
getting away with the sweet ' Quickie '
we leave the spot a little sticky
its the fun that we both crave
while in our minds the memory is saved