“[...] the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’ What did they call such young people in Goethe’s Germany?”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Tigress

I told him I wanted to gobble him

“A morsel to devour I’m not”

Then what’s the point in sex, said I

If we can ‘t feast when we’re hot

For me sex is all about passion

Sucking the marrow from life

Not dusting yourself while you screw

A bottle full of strife

I am alive!  I feel the gusto!

I am a woman who ‘s free!

Please let me be full bloomed

I’m a flower can’t you see

Yeah a blossom and a tiger

That’s me all rolled into one

Hungry but knowing my place

In the garden under the sun

Sanctuary to have some fun

And snack on your tight buns