Mr. 1973

When I first saw my music man,

his ghost white hair

highlighted his still youthful face.

Even after his many years of rock n roll,

the magic still glinted in his eyes.

He offered me a drink

and a reprieve from useless living.

With him, I could fall

into my poetry,

with his guitar serenading

my muse.

The first time I kissed my music man,

all the passion he had seeping

through his skin

bled into my lips and

warmed my special parts.

The generations between us melted away.

He stripped me first

then consumed me wholly.

Like an adolescent expert,

he knew just what to do,

he knew just how to love me.

The wrongs felt so right

as we melted into each other that night.

And though his soul has reached it's peak

and mine is still budding,

we are the same dash of kashmir.

A touchstone for the other.

My music man, I love him,

I love him like no other.