We met in the paddy wagon. You were complaining about your zip cuffs being to tight. I told you how to sit to ease the pressure and you thanked me. The goosebumps on your smooth long legs called to me. The house we were partying in was raided just as things were getting good. By good I mean, no one was assaulting me or asking me to leave, yet. Then the front door went down and so did my boner. Anyway, you smelled delicious. Probably a Neutrogena moisturizer. Simply splendid. You were not in the booking cell long, most likely due to no priors and your wealthy white parents. But I'll pretend not to notice though. I'm just now smelling fresh air. People have no idea just how rank jails smell.
I can hear you onlookers say, 'so don't go there'. Right. Because you are so holy and righteous. Truth is, you just haven't been caught yet and the system, looking a lot like you, hasn't noticed you. Yet. So lecture me when you have the sack to step out from the herd and live a little. As for my zipped tied goddess, I roam now incomplete and dazed, awaiting the strike of lightning once more.
N.
I can hear you onlookers say, 'so don't go there'. Right. Because you are so holy and righteous. Truth is, you just haven't been caught yet and the system, looking a lot like you, hasn't noticed you. Yet. So lecture me when you have the sack to step out from the herd and live a little. As for my zipped tied goddess, I roam now incomplete and dazed, awaiting the strike of lightning once more.
N.
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