Riding My Unicorn

1993, digital picture-poem by Chris Wayan.

I'm single and shy, so I asked my dreams for an image of my true love. I dreamt of a maiden in love with a unicorn--but they were both a bit strange...

WHAT HE THOUGHT:
Rubs naked on me Her eager smell. Her girl-longing's a slip-slide oil to make a magic stallion boil! She talks, She teases, showing me she has a mind; showing her she's nice. As hot toes roam!	I like her. I'll lick her! Will she Drink me? Knows she the change? Loves she the spell, or me? When her brow bears a healing horn, Will she then mourn Her lost mortality? Am I but a vampire, Justifying my parasitic... Heart's desire?

WHAT SHE THOUGHT:
Don't talk. Don't waste your tender tongue on talk. Wash me, rough, warm lava on my thigh. Lick the salt trickle of my supple nipple. O lap my leg-lip-rose! YOU mount, YOU ride! O how I've tried	To slicken, to stretch, to be worthy of Your vast hot and furry love. I'll wide my heart I'll wide my puss For you, you, you alone. For us.

NOTE IN THE MORNING

It makes a steamy picture-poem, but it's awkward advice: where do you meet unicorns? How do you know them when you meet them?
They hide their horns, in the day, these days.

2001 NOTE

It took this long for me to wonder...who says I was the maiden?
Am I a unicorn unaware of my own magic?
Why, then all I need is a nice pervert girl... who prefers magic to men.