Wet Guitar
by
Ernest Samuel Llime

Torn between two lovers, Janey and Mrs. B.

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Both of them long of leg and broad of hip
As real women should be

Between the three of us with Danny at our back

We own whatever stage we choose to tread
It is a useful knack

With Mrs. B's big bottom our music sounds so rich
But it just wouldn't be enough without our Janey
That rosy Georgia peach

Janey straps on that Gretch guitar and holds it to her breast
And all at once she makes it bring out
Nothing but the best

A song or two and Janey breaks into a sweat
It trickles down and sometimes splashes the guitar
Making it wet

I know exactly what it tastes like, we are passionate like that
I've been with her some other times
When slippery and wet

We're not exactly small you see, it needed to be said
It might explain why some motels we left
contained a broken bed.

Yet when the passion's spent and we both lay in our busted bed
While Mrs. B. reproachfully is watching from her stand I say to her,
I'm sorry honey; I need F holes, for more than just my hand.

 included in
 Pleasure, Pain and Eternity, a collection of poems erotic and mundane
 
by

 Ernest Samuel Llime
 
Now available from Amazon.com and other online book publishers.

 

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