Sunday, January 13, 2008

The L Word To Chopin, Monks and Sappho

And what about the incredible, edible elegance of a Sapphic maiden's leg, clothed in finest of French lace, weave around my Northern cowgirl's  milk-and-peaches complexion! I don't mind if you call me the super-lipstick L word, but a luxurious Sunday lunch at a restored railroad station, watching suburban trains whizz by, sharing soft glances, neither anticipating nor indifferent - all this is just a lead-in to a night on white satin, tumble in intimate silks, intertwining in a balmy bath of perfectly perfumed suds...
Janet is a perfect 10, a social studies professor, but not a militant. She enjoys a quiet night watching the stars on my patio while listening to Jo Jackson. Unforgettable, those platonic, Sapphic nights. They are beyond the need for political statements, feminist agenda, Equal Rights Amendment. They are beyond the need for obscene policy statements screamed by hi-cut, brusque and pierced matrons on the Diag.
She told me all about her husband, and that made me feel a sort of an odd mastermind of a peaceful plan that includes her husband as a cuckold, had I been a man, she would be thought of as an adulteress. I find myself as a gourmet huntress of MILF's . Back to movie reviews, my eunuch-like monk friend and his violin repair shop, back to the philharmonic and Shostakovitch, Chopin and Mozart. That is too much.

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