casual time travel and a can of neck wine

I like the way she walks out of a room.
Her nail polish is chipped but it's a character choice.
Gosh, I wish I could kiss her now.
I'd rather be straddling you, she says.
In lay down fashion, telling you/me about this night.

I like your new trouble.
This is how the story ends.
These are the flame-throwers.
Caused by me.

When the sonnet goes good.
I go high.
And the fact that it is hard.
to make her laugh.
is quite the accomplishment.

There is nothing like the few.
Fox sports are created to be anything but.
So don't settle.
Be flavors in every knees.
Behind the upside right.

I can't ever gauge these textmessages.
Oh yeah.
Done wrong.
Sexy time.
Call it a poem for now, because it is.