By 
This is fire.
I’ve been looking for you all my life.
Trust me, I see you too, boo.
This is what I will run home to.
She is the ice in my cup.
She is absolutely da buzz of my Patron.
This is all the alcohol I will ever need.
She’s more than a glass to hold.
The straw that sits in my jaw. Together we are a perfect fit.
This is the stirrer placed in my drink.
For the record this is the azz my lips desires to kiss.
This is where my tongue will always go.
I will goggle map the quickest and shortest route to da azz.
What fool hangs out with all of this waiting for him at home?
Where’s my napkin? Where’s my spoon?
Harlem Inner City Blues: Random Thoughts 