I took you— that’s how I started my poem, but then those three words are almost an erotic poem in themselves. I can think of so many places where I've taken you and so many where I will. to be sure of meaning I looked up 'took'— to lay hold of; to seize with the hands; to get into one’s hold or possession; to seize and carry away; and even to take prisoner and I confess that I’ve taken you by the book— both Webster’s and Oxford’s. I’ve discovered that I care very much about definitions when I fuck you. I once lay hold of you in the laundry room, and in the kitchen I once seized you and held you face down over the kitchen table until you spilled over the table’s edge like an overflowing bowl; and once after taking sudden possession of your opened legs on the hood of my car and after making you orgasm on a womb full of cock and semen I took you to my place instead of yours and possessed you again just to be sure; and once I seized you at a party and carried you away (in a sense) to a nearby barn where I took you on all fours and returned you to the party with your thighs a wet mess; but all along (truth be told) it was you who took me prisoner who made me do, after all, what you always wanted me to do to you.
William Crimson | February 24th 2019