The Wardrobe of Lust

Some people keep sweaters, TVs, and jewelry
in their armoires.
Not me.

Mine is filled with wonderful tomes,
“The Guide to Getting It On,
“The Joy of Sex,”
“The KamaSutra for Modern Americans.”

My wardrobe has stacks of old Penthouses.
I only read it for the articles, of course.
And an odd letter or two,
as you can see by the worn out pages.
There is a box, rather long to hold a book,
so it doesn’t.
I keep my dildo, Mr. Purple, in there.
I had a cream vibrator, but it gave me muscle cramps.
I got a red one for Christmas.
It shares the box with Mr. Purple.
Some old photo albums show me
and old boyfriends.
On my honeymoon.
Up on the high shelf is the
and the warming oil
and the body paints.
They are all opened, but not used up.
Otherwise I’d buy new ones.
Boredom won’t set in with a good book to heat me up
and something to feast the eyes on
and something to relax the inhibitions with.

But you can’t just leave those out around the house.
The baby might get into them.
So I keep them in my wardrobe.
Along with the odd negligee.

And, no, if you come to my house this is not what you will find in my armoire. But it was a fun poem to write. Written on May 6, 2002.