I know about perception, yours.
you always seem to know
when impulses descend
down from my brain right to the end
where eager nerves feed aging loins.
And, oh so unbeknownst to you
this little secret shall be always mine
it is the sight of naked cheeks
as they emerge from vinyl drapes;
two firm and luscious bosco pears
flushed pink and just a touch of damp.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-turn-on/
