Musing From Number 24

From my window I can see
a building, Number 23
seven stories, looking back
seven houris dressed in black
seen through seven window shades
and I imagine seven maids

embracing seven handsome beaus
behind the outline of the rose
etched in blue upon the door
sketched into my metaphor
so I become a shapeless mass
and through the glass I darkly pass

to wander through the azure halls
infiltrate the harem walls
I slide beneath the chamber door
and find them lying on the floor
too occupied to notice me
still clinging to my chastity

but concupiscent as a newt
randy as a bandicoot
Juliets with their Romeos
behind the outline of the rose
the light is dim but I can hear
heavy breathers persevere

pant and moan obscenities
stripped down to bare necessities
suddenly I realize
( a terrible faux pas )
it's Sunday morning exercise 
in the bowels of the Blue Rose Spa.

Next Poem

Blue Rose

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