Baby It's cold outside

Poetry to recall summer. It's filthy cold and wet outside, and the boiler is down in my apartment building. Guess how quick a repairman shows up on Sunday afternoon?

So, poetry that brings the heat, erotic or otherwise. Here's an old one of mine, to start. Help me get warm.

"And we flew"

Summer
seemed to last
all year
long that year.

Under a wide
and burning sky,
baked fields
hot to the touch,
lay bruised and broken
beneath sneaker heels
and bicycle wheels.

So high we flew.
So high that summer.
Launched from plywood ramps,
our Stingray bikes
grabbed the sky.

And we flew.

So high we thought
we'd never come down.
Until we did.

Crashing again
and tearing the skin
from knees and chins
in a fast tangle
of boy
and bike
and burning earth.

Only to launch once more
into the endless sky
of our last innocent summer.

Roses are red, violence is too.
You're sweet when you choke and warm when you're blue.
When my temperature rises, I want you to know...
you're the white in my sky and the black on my snow.

The roses have vanished,
white is the snow.
You tease me and taunt me,
but where did you go?

You leave me here hanging
like beef on a chain.
I lust and I yearn
for sweet summer rain.

Snip

The roses are cradled in baskets of snow.
You tease me and taunt me, but where did you go?

Your tickle bites back like a dog on a chain, but
I learn that I lust for a sweet summer rain.

The petals have fallen
from the frost in your smile,
Now all that is left
is a sodden red pile.
But I'll wait for the Summer
and grow roses red
over the the place of
your cosy soil bed.
The body refused me,
the flashing blue eyes
will make perfect growth
and a rose fertilise.

It's all butterflies in the fields of horny.
All winged smiles atop limbs and abdomens
upon futon meadows at tracklight dusk.
Broken thermostat summers have ripened
third-date harvests early and they
burst open at the lightest touch.
Flocks of nimble promises and pastel lies
are a final modesty on animal hide.
Shivers like tonguelings made to french-kiss flowers
follow large thumbs down to where the nectar drips.
Fluttering pretenses animate the air;
confetti of a naked people parade
down a hall to a dark room with a bed.

.....