loved like, a poem

I want to be loved the way Farrah loves her tomato.

I want to be loved at 7:30 pm, the way Jawaid loves Jeopardy.

I want to loved like the hollering, jumping and clapping of Mom, in stands, for an away homerun at Yankee Stadium.

Loved like free drinks from the bartender, without a wink, without cleavage.

Loved as that song that’s in your head-is now on the radio!

Loved like the cold floor as you crumble down in laughter.

Loved like a Presidente in the hand with Caribbean waves through the legs and sand between toes.

to be continued.