driving thru the night

his thought has not some stable hour;

whenever wants, gets inside her soul,

crawling like a biblio—kleptomaniac,

going down tactfully to her bungalow,

built charming, inspiring, and luring,

with dreams driving through the night

[a night filled with authentic passion]

up, in her dream, feels his lips slipping

slyly, leveling off on her neck and body,

soothingly, getting down, down, down,

while his hands, finely, knead her hips,

as his body is pressing hers, delicately,

making her want...want, yet he dilutes

[her need to make pee, wakened her up]