by Joe Woodward
I will miss you asking what I wearing
underneath my clothes. Blue? Or black?
Or white? Or grey? Or red? Or yellow? Or
purple? Or the way you smile
with those naughty eyes when you ask.
Yesterday I wear white cotton and
I obeyed you
when you commanded
I remove them (giggling)
and you made such
how do I explain it
such a laugh when I said
But I do obey you.
I obey your will.
I wish dear Joy
I could obey you
Funny you are surprised by that
Don't your women "obey" anymore?
But seriously, I must go back. Even
though it hurts to say "bye" to you; hurts
beyond anything I can say. You know I
have to go back. My son will have missed
me so much. And if, some reason, I didn't
return what would they tell him. How
would he remember me. So NO. I cannot,
will never, leave him.
(Giggling) Besides, I don't want to
become one of your detainees. Iranian
women don't escape that often. Even
professional women like me, Rose Banisadre.
Music provides a magic back drop for Rose.
'Want to go to the forest?' you asked.
Then you took me away from the lights
and the city into the forest and the water
where all is soft and wonderful !
I like forest.
and your moon
your pale creamy moon with light
yellow as it moves around clouds
and orange behind mist and smoke.
I love it. You love it?
And we can play
and let imagination take us anywhere
Oh, Joy, can we play on the bank to
the lake? And you asked me if I would
slowly disrobe to show you my white
underwear. "I want to see you Rose."
I feel so shy. But I love to obey
you ok? So I do it. Can you imagine
the thoughts, the feeling and the beating
of a heart in the night as I'm removing
my blouse. My head is down. I can't
look at your face.
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