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My Gap Year.

this is as close to heaven

as I’m ever likely to get,

I thought,

as I knelt in front of her

& she just stood there

in pink satin panties

 - a vision -

and edging my fingers under

the elastic & gently

easing them lower

a tattoo revealed itself

in Kunstler Script

just above her mound:

it read  Mind the Gap

 

and I could see why

as my cupped palm could fit

sideways between the top of her legs

and not quite touch either side.

this was the moment when I

got religion, of a sort,

and decided

that there must be a god after all

as nothing so perfect could have evolved

in less than a million years or so.

 

Other times it was blondes,

other times Asians

but at twenty one

this was my gap year.