Tonight I dreamed that I had sex
with a high-ranking police chief
with a stubby build
She used to be a young officer
in a canoe
on a team-building outing
on the lakes
We slept in a big military tent
and she inched up close to me
in her sleeping bag
Her investigator husband
wasn't part of our group
He and her had come from the capital
recently
She immediately swung around
towards me,
by then a civilian radio operator
at the police station
She sat down opposite me
in the communications room,
sticking her knees in between mine
She was feverish but unappealing,
and I didn't need any trouble
with her hubby;
a noble and straight-forward officer
She must have been ferociously horny,
on the brink of insanity
Some years later
she sneaked up behind me
in the lunch room
and grabbed my ass
without warning,
quite firmly
out of her uniform,
explaining under her breath
that she couldn't help herself,
risking a possible detrimental
report,
but I felt somewhat flattered,
who wouldn't!
A decade later, divorced,
she came back from a sejour
elsewhere,
appointed the Chief of Police
in our district
Didn't take long
before she came into my room,
closed the door and hugged me
repeatedly
She's grown old since then,
as one of the major police chiefs
of Sweden,
her shoulders struggling
under all that gold,
an old lady with a fatso apparition
I met her this past summer
in the town square
Maybe I should mount her once,
from behind,
having her groan like a pig
in the sty,
that untalented, presumptuous bitch