Purple Pleaser

Pandora is lonesome,
So am I,
We smile at each other
And our clothes
Fall away.
We kiss, touch and
Exchange an ecstasy
Of sighs,
Each night we
Make love and
Call it friendship.
The ship is
Our cradle,
Rocking us to sleep,
In each other’s arms,
At 68 degrees F.
The throb of the
Ship engines,
Vibrates,
Each dawn the
Sky turns purple,
Just to please
Pandora.