Private property

Look at me.
Survey that which is yours.
What do you notice first?
Pale skin, freckle-flecked,
eyes raised, defying shyness
or twinkling with seductive glee.
Flowing hair, impossibly red,
loose at your command.
Insistent tits, hardened tips
atop the gentle curves.
That belly, roundly singing siren
songs you wish you didn't hear.
Best
not
to mention
the belly.
But nestled close below are lips
that pout and wiggle from their nest,
a glistening drop of sweetened wine
dangling from their tongue.
You turn me round
and pull me close.
Eyes are not enough.
The time has come for touch.
Pull me hard against you as
you fondle what is yours.
I belong to you alone.
Capitalism does have its advantages.